


The Lost and Found

by Pappillon



Series: The Lost Children [2]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: An even larger OC Trash Fire(TM), But I would still appreciate y'all giving it a chance, F/F, Multi, Please read The Lost Children first!, The TLSequel, This story won't make any sense otherwise, please and thank you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2019-10-17 13:44:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 56
Words: 28,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17561522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pappillon/pseuds/Pappillon
Summary: A century later, Pearl receives a peculiar letter.





	1. Letter 1

                                          

Dear Pearl,

Before you crumple this letter into a ball, I would appreciate it if you would read through it. I know you must have a lot of questions. I’ll begin by telling you that Yellow Diamond has allowed me to serve my sentence in a new facility she’s commissioned.

Although, it’s actually quite old. I don’t know what it was used for originally, but each of us have a tiny room that’s constantly monitored where we work during free periods. As I’m writing this, I’m pretending to take notes on an assignment I’ve been given. I couldn’t believe it, but Yellow Diamond granted my old post back. Despite my crimes, she said that I was a nonviolent offender, and that because I worked more efficiently outside of confinement, I was selected to live here.

I’m breaking the law in writing to you, but I don’t intend on sending more letters. I can see now that if I had followed the rules, our lives wouldn’t have spiraled out of control in the first place. However grateful I am for having been able to meet you, that was something that came at your expense.

I only wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. I’m trying to become a better gem, even though some days are difficult.

I hope you’re well.

–Morganite


	2. Letter 2

How did you get this letter to me? And why shouldn’t I report you? Clearly it was a mistake for them to let you out. You’re already back to your old tricks.

—Pearl 


	3. Letter 3

Morganite,

I’m sorry. That was cruel of me. I was shocked. Emotions that I hadn’t felt for the past hundred years came back, and I was rash in sending that to you.

What happened wasn’t entirely your fault. I could have turned you in. Yellow Diamond had even called our apartments directly, according to the book. Even then, I hated being stuck in Blue’s library so much that I would have done anything to avoid going back.

My opinion about the library has yet to change, but I’ve stopped following rules I used to abide. I still clean and fulfill the duties “My” Diamond asks of me, but I’ve also stopped caring about if I’m found out.

When no one is around, I read, and when Blue Diamond’s Pearl comes to visit me, we fuck. I’ve tried to convince her to move to the bottom floor, where there are comfortable places to sit, but she insists on the shadows of the top floor to avoid anyone catching us, though I’m sure the other Pearls already know.

I doubt Blue knows but she doesn’t seem to care either. Just a few days ago she came in to look at me—probably to cry about losing My Diamond again. During these visits, I’m expected to stand at attention while she weeps openly. That’s what I used to do, at least. Blue has never told me to stop cleaning, but this time, I didn’t. I greeted her and immediately went back to work. Can you guess what she said?

“Oh Pearl—” Mind you, this was through tears. “You’re so hard working, like Pink.” 

I could start dancing in front of her and she would compliment me for trying to make her feel better. If I stripped for her, she might thank me for the distraction. 

I suppose I would fear truly facing my shattering, but it seems you were right. Blue Diamond wants to keep me. I’m a relic of better times, despite being obsolete. I’ll admit I’m somewhat happy to hear from you, in a twisted way. 

Blue’s Pearl told me she had your letter as we lie naked together on the floor. The Diamonds were still fucking in the next room as she said in a whisper, “Morganite sent you a note.”

After she placed it in my hand from her bunched up fist, I reread your message several times over. I still can’t believe it. I asked her how you managed to send it, but she didn’t have an answer. She said the same thing when I asked her how you sent the book; “Morganite had her ways.” Though, I guess you’re not in the past tense anymore. 

I want to know how you got your note to me, if you’ll incriminate yourself. If anyone catches you, you’ll probably be in deep shit, but I have to admit, I’m relieved to have something to break up the boredom. I haven’t written since preparing to exit your service. I guess that makes you some kind of muse.

Take care.

—Pearl 


	4. Letter 4

Dear Pearl,

It’s alright that you reacted the way you did, but I am glad that you sent another note.

To explain how I sent my letter (since you’re curious), I tucked it into my sleeve, and when conducting my interviews, I found a Pearl who was willing to help me. She was a witness to a crime, having seen her master and another gem fuse. Despite issuing her statement, she liked her owner and didn’t want to see her apprehended. I asked her thoughts if she would help me, and she answered back without needing to speak.

I regret breaking the rules, but that’s how badly I wished to apologize to you. I suppose I’ll need to do the same to send this letter, but perhaps this will be the last one?

I must admit, it’s nice to have someone to speak to, even if only through text. You likely don’t remember our time together at all, but I always enjoyed your thoughts. Their irreverence made me laugh; although, I am sorry to hear Blue Diamond is annoying you. Since Yellow has begun to care for me during my visions, I can verify that she’s also fed up with Blue’s sorrow.

Yellow’s mind often drifts to her. Even when she’s restraining me and continues to work at her computer, I hear her thoughts between snippets of top secret information. I’m sure she doesn’t want me to know of these things. 

Not only does holding me take time away from her day, but I am granted access to her conscious. The process reminds her of Heliodor, who she loved, despite refusing to acknowledge those feelings. Yellow regrets shattering her. It’s part of the reason I was allowed to live, along with the resource shortage, of course, even though I didn’t deserve it. If we were living in Era One, I know my fate would have been different. But if this were Era One, I would have had a Diamond who wanted me.

Nonetheless, I’m going to stay positive and be good.

May you be left alone to read to your heart’s content,

—Morganite 

PS, you shouldn’t wish to be in trouble. I know life is unhappy now, but believe me, the last thing you want is to come to a place like this. I’m grateful to work every day, but some of the gems here aren’t able to leave at all. They sit in their cells or work at the factory, aside from the days we can walk freely in the yard, which is also heavily monitored. I wouldn’t recommend such a lifestyle to anyone.   


	5. Letter 5

Morganite,

If you don’t want to answer back, you don’t have to. I respect that you’re trying to follow the rules, but I’m also bored as fuck.

You’re definitely right. I don’t want to end up in a place where I would have even less freedom, but if I could stop existing, that would be great. The sum of my days is waiting for Blue Diamond’s Pearl to visit, searching for new books to read, cleaning, and sleeping on the job. 

I know this is going to be hard to believe, but many of Blue Diamond’s books are horrendously boring. Granted, she does have a  _ lot _ of literature, but much of her collection is law and history. The history books have more potential to be interesting, but neither are ideal.

I have too much time. I’ve already made my way through most of the books worth reading, which is about all I’ve done for the past hundred years. I know you’re not going to believe this either, but most of her books are also unread. I can’t tell you how many I’ve come across that didn’t have so much as a mark on the cover. I used to be so careful in opening them—making sure they maintained the illusion of virginity, but recently I’ve given up. Blue is never going to request these books. Only occasionally does she reach for the ones big enough for her hands, but even that’s rare.

I doubt her Pearl would expose me either, if she ever read aloud one of these classics “Our” Diamond clearly doesn’t care about.

I’m ready for this to be over.

That said, I’ll try not to get myself locked away. Can you tell me what your life is like? How is the room they’re keeping you in? It sounds pretty horrible.

—Pearl

Oh, PS: you don’t need to reply. I’ll understand if it’s not worth the risk. We’re just caged animals talking. 


	6. Letter 6

Dear Pearl, 

I thought for a while about answering you back. I might not send this letter, but I think the fact that I’m writing at all likely means I will.

Speaking of your letters, I apologize if I miss something in replying. I don’t have the liberty to look at them whenever I like, and I’ve had to find means to rid the ones I’ve read. Over the last cycle, I ate one. Can you believe that?

Agate came to search my room, as is customary. I managed to read what you wrote and had nearly finished tucking it up my sleeve when a knock sounded at the door. I say a knock. I suppose it was more of a slam. Anyway, I swallowed it whole before she entered. I was lucky I did because she really tore the place apart.

Well. What little there is to tear apart. 

You asked about my living arrangement. I inhabit a very small, grey space with a mattress on the floor and a desk on the other side of the room, with an old work computer like the one in our former chambers. On one of my walls, there’s a portrait of Yellow Diamond, posed and serious. You may have noticed that much of our art depicts her profile, but the portrait in my room does not. She looks down at me from the wall, which stands as a reminder to be good and do my work, because My Diamond is interested in my well-being. This is not unique to my room either; every gem in this facility has a picture of their Diamond, to remind them of Her Love.    

Every day, I take the notes I’ve made and am escorted to my job at the courthouse. The Agate who takes me doesn’t speak much. What I like about her is that she has grey stripes twisting through her hair. I follow them to the apex of her bun, where it becomes a solid dot. 

I asked her this morning how she was. We were just about to depart as she was applying the chains, at which point, she stopped to look at me as though I had grown another eye. She answered nonetheless, “I’m fine,” and we entered the halls. I caught her occasionally looking to me, and she didn’t pull the chain as harshly if I fell behind.

It’s odd, to walk with her, mostly because I was so accustomed to being followed and not  _ following _ , when Jasper and I would go anywhere, but she isn’t so terrible. Sometimes she regards me with what is perhaps sympathy. If I walk too slowly, it seems as though she doesn’t wish to pull me along, even though she must.

Anyway, I guess my point is that we accrue a lot of looks. What’s especially humiliating is the chain tied around my wrists. You would think that Homeworld would come up with something more technologically advanced, but I suppose an old fashioned chain works just as well, and would be easier to manufacture? 

I think other gems recognize me. I’m one of very few Morganites, after all. Perhaps we’re just trouble. I deserve the dirty looks I get and count myself fortunate that I’m not like Goshenite, who only needs to look at another gem to know what they think of her. That would be its own hell.

Speaking of Goshenite, I see her at work sometimes. She always looks a little sad when she spots me, perhaps wanting to speak, even though she’s likely not allowed to. I’m not certain, and it hurts to stare too long.

I wish I could hold her hand again. I long to touch anyone, but especially her. I’m sure she already knows I don’t want her to feel sorry for me, but I want to tell her myself. If I had done nothing wrong, there wouldn’t be a need for punishment, as the videos say. Homeworld’s government is only doing what’s best for me and its gems. I have to remind myself of that.

Anyway, once I’ve finished the day, the guard steps into my interrogation room, shackles my hands, and brings me ‘home.’ I continue my work. The cycle repeats itself. 

I’m sorry Blue Diamond’s books are so boring. Does she ever buy new ones?

—Morganite       


	7. Letter 7

Morganite,

You mentioned videos? What kind of videos are they?

Rarely does a Pearl come in with a new book, and like I mentioned earlier, these books are never read. It’s surprising how stagnant this place is. 

I would give anything for a good story.

Although, I was recently allowed to go to the market with Blue Diamond’s Pearl. She came into the library and I expected her to tell me that the Diamonds were fucking again, but she had come to get me. She had asked on my behalf under the guise of “Missing Pink Diamond,” during the days we would see each other. Unsurprisingly, Blue allowed it, and her Pearl came and took my hand.

As I walked with Pearl to the marketplace, I also had the sensation of other gems recognizing me. I have no way of knowing whether they looked at me that way due to our scandal or that I used to be Pink Diamond’s personal Pearl. I would collect looks like those before.

It was so odd to be free, even for only a short time. The events played out like a dream, with everything around me practically blurring around the edges. I experienced a rush of disbelief, I was so glad to have my confinement broken.

The sights themselves felt both old and new. The tea shop and the bookstore were as I remembered them, but they had replaced the signs. The technology was newer. Even the guards that used to wait outside had been replaced by a machine that only allows a certain number of gems in a time.     

I saw something interesting on one of the walls. It was a poster with a shattered gem in the center, with the text, “Be careful with your life. Homeworld needs you.” I suppose the Quartz Soldiers who guarded the market had to do another job. The resource shortage must be bad if they’ve begun to make propaganda about it.

As we were going back, I caught the Pearl that works in the tea shop staring at me. I couldn’t remember her, but I had the feeling I had seen her before, and it occurred to me that she was likely the same one in the book. She must have known everything. You can always count on Pearls to talk shit, but it was like I was seeing her for the first time. I had imagined her differently when I read my account of what happened, and it was so strange to get a good look at her.   

Before she could judge me any longer, we were leaving. I wonder if she suspects we’re fucking. Maybe she found another love bite I neglected to cover.

The feeling she left me with stuck around the rest of that day. I would describe it as the sensation of waking from a too-real dream, but worse. This feeling is based on real events—events that I can’t recall.

I’m like the character from a novel who suddenly sprung to life. I’m still angry at you sometimes. The most frustrating thing is that I don’t even know why. At times I want my memories back and others, I don’t.

I wish you would have let me take some of the punishment, but maybe they wouldn’t have punished me no matter what. No one believes me, even when I’m openly disrespectful. Confinement to an object would be preferable to this. At least I wouldn’t be conscious.

—Pearl 


	8. Letter 8

Dear Pearl,

Contrary to popular belief, confinement to an object does not guarantee unconsciousness. I suppose there have been some gems in the past who don’t remember their imprisonment, but I remember mine. I remember every moment of it.

I’m sorry to make you angry. I’m angry at myself too, having come to the point where I want to be touched again, even just to hold someone’s hand, but it simply isn’t allowed. I feel terrible for wanting such things. Agate even told me I was doing well, complimenting one of the short essays I wrote, saying I brought up good solutions when temptations arise, such as taking a walk or thinking about something else.

If only I could leave. We may talk to the other inmates, but most of the others are quiet. In my group, there is a Topaz, a Pearl, a Ruby, and a few Quartzes who sit in the back of the viewing room. Ruby and Pearl seem to be friends, standing next to one another outside, even though I haven’t heard them speak. Our Quartzes stick together, and poor Topaz, like me, is frequently alone. She’s the one I’d like to chat with most, as she’s debatably the most gentle, but I’ve yet to witness her not in tears. I’ve decided to wait to approach her when she stops crying, but stars know when that will be. Despite her weeping, Topaz is always present in the yard, so I know she’s doing her assignments. Had she not, she wouldn’t be permitted.  

Whenever I wander into the yard, they all turn to look at me. It seems that they know what I’ve done. Perhaps everyone does. The look you describe from that Pearl, I’ve felt many times. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that I empathize.

Perhaps they suspect that I’m haughty, as I’m the sole aristocrat, even though we’re all in the same institution on similar crimes. I wish I could tell them that I don’t behave in such a way. I consider them with a higher regard than I do myself, but I worry that trying to appeal to them will only make me more unappealing. 

I think they’re jealous because I’m able to leave, on which point I don’t blame them. It seems that the other gems work within the facility, manufacturing items. I’ve heard that it changes each cycle, or if a new work order is to be filled. Not very long ago, I heard someone (I forget who) complaining about making limb enhancers, and how there were many small parts. They’re surely crafting something else now. 

I’ve seen the factory doors open during my time in the yard. Large and foreboding, they split open along the center, exposing a fiery glow and the silhouettes of enormous machines. Even as shadows, I can make out their moving parts, sharp edges gnashing like teeth. I must admit, I’m glad I needn’t attend work there. Jasper was right. I am spoiled even when I’m being punished.

You asked about the videos. Well, for those that are here every day, they have to go to these viewing rooms for reeducation. I attend once every cycle, but most gems attend every day after work.

The rooms themselves are small with a screen in the center, rows of chairs inside. One simply sits as the videos play. The ones we watch pertain to conduct, so I assume each group covers different subjects. There is a series about violence, for instance. I overheard two former soldiers talking about it.

One video that I’m certain is the same throughout all of the groups is the one in which White Diamond addresses us. Most have small skits or voice-overs, and can be charming (at least in the way that they’re poorly acted). White Diamond’s address however, only features her looking straight forward, at each of us. I remember her eyes, tired but all-seeing. She spoke with deliberation. 

“We used to shatter gems like you.” She said it as if she regretted shattering gems that were once close to her. I only know from Goshenite that this is truly the case, as I’ve felt firsthand how White loves her. Sometimes I’m so jealous I’d like to cry—but I’m getting off track.

“You aren’t obviously defective. Each of you appear physically normal, but for whatever reason, you lack discipline. There is something morally wrong with each of you.” She paused then, and looked into the distance, as if she felt sorry for us! “However, despite these flaws, we believe you can learn to do better, and serve your Diamond properly.” I felt every crime I’ve ever committed as a film upon my skin. “It will be a difficult path, but with enough hard work, I believe that each of you can reform to your purpose and become excellent gems. That will be all.”

Whenever I have doubts, I remember her. I know that I need to fight against being so pink and become the gem Yellow wants. She can’t read my mind, but she may see it the next time she holds me. I want her to feel how good I can be.

I think this will be the last letter I send you, Pearl. It’s been pleasant writing with you, but my initial reason for contacting you was to apologize. I’m sorry for the pain I caused you, but know I’ll strive for better.

Please stay out of trouble, as hard as it is.

Love, Morganite        


	9. Letter 9

Good luck, Morganite. Thanks for the apology. I’ll try to behave myself, I guess.

—Pearl


	10. Letter 10

Morganite,

I know it’s been a while since I’ve written. To be clear, you don’t have to answer me back. I won’t be offended. I just realized I missed writing, and it would feel odd not to send these letters.

I don’t know. Maybe I’ll finish writing this and decide I’m being foolish. It might be cruel to tempt you if you’re doing better in the eyes of the authorities. Feel free to ignore this letter. Or eat it.

Writing this, I’m more or less preparing to sneak out of the library tonight. I say “preparing,” but there are no mirrors to change my reflection in. I’ve straightened myself out as much as I can and am waiting for the signal. 

Blue Diamond’s Pearl told me about a gathering the others are having. Because she can’t leave her Lady’s side, she won’t be going, but someone else is supposed to alert me when it’s time.

I’m sure you wouldn’t approve of my plans, and I doubt you’ll approve of my saying this either, but I wish I could remember the time you and I snuck into Our Diamond’s chambers. Rereading it time and time again, I seemed extremely nervous, but I’d be willing to try such a thing nowadays. I care substantially less about being caught.

I’d like to go back home, but it seems I’ll get as far as Blue Diamond’s salon tonight.

Whatever. I’ll let you know how it goes.

—Pearl


	11. Letter 11

Morganite,

The gathering went well. As I told you before, I was waiting in the library for someone to come get me, and when its large doors finally opened, the light had nearly faded completely. I was about to turn the auxiliary lights on when another Pearl poked her head in and waved me over.  

I’ve seen most of Blue Diamond’s house Pearls by now, and I had seen this one too. With her gem a little too high toward her collarbone, she wasn’t quite the right color, but still resembled Blue Diamond’s personal Pearl. When I followed her out, the rest of the chambers were so dark we had to put our lights on. Shining as dimly as possible, we made our way to the salon.

I had a brief look at this room when I went to the market. During the day, the comically large furniture casts shadows over the Pearls beneath it, sitting in an unused state. Blue Diamond’s chair, as well as her ottoman, are as untouched as the books in her library. The same goes for her fire place, and the couch against the eastern wall.

Coming into that room at night, the towering shapes had warped. In the day, you can see the entire piece; at night, you can only make out lumbering shadows. I shined light upon them, and uncovered parts of their images, the leg of a chair, or a single brick of the fireplace, looking upon the limb of a monster I wasn’t meant to see. 

The Pearl led me toward the ottoman, whose thick fringe emanated an ornate carpet—a gold whose rays of escaping light hardly surprised me. They would have glowed that way despite the Pearls hiding behind it, but the tiny chatter gave them away.    

We entered by pushing the fringe aside, and I found about fifteen blue Pearls, holding mismatched cups, gaping at my audacity for existing. At least one of them had thought to invite me, but maybe they were shocked I had arrived.

They better not believe I actually enjoy this dusty library.

Before I could wonder if coming was a mistake, one of them stepped forward to welcome me. She offered tea in a chipped crème cup and I walked further into the party-box ottoman. The talking continued in groups, whose members still turned to me on my way inside.

I’m not sure where they took their cups from. It seemed that each held a different one, from a different period, from different rooms. The refreshments in the center of it reflected the same trend—a collection of multicolored teapots. 

One caught my eye as I stood against the fringe. It was a bronze color, but nearly golden and dented enough that I wondered if someone had used it to beat their lady to death. Shining to the point of obnoxiousness, it had been polished several times, perhaps to clean the blood.

I sipped my tea and contemplated the viability of beating someone to death with a kettle, as a shadow approached. She slid out of the darkness to take a spot next to me—the lightest thing about her the violently white cup in her hands.

She could have arrived through the fringe behind me, having only seen her when she suddenly appeared. Had I placed so much attention on that damn kettle?

This library is causing me to lose my sanity.

In a little voice, she said, “Hey.”

“Hey.” We stood perfectly in place for the incoming silence.

Then she asked about you. “How was serving Lady Morganite?”

“I can’t really remember.”

“Oh.” Somehow, her dark blue cheeks turned darker. “I’m sorry.”

“I mean,  _ you _ didn’t erase my memories. Why do you ask anyway?”

“Oh, we ran into each other one day. I was on an errand and I gave you a note from Blue Diamond’s Pearl.”

“You’re Blue Diamond’s Pearl too.”

She blushed again, gripping her cup a little harder. “I’m practically off-color. The other Pearls make fun of me for how dark I am.”

“That’s rude,” I sipped my tea. “Well, we can be off-color together. I’m not even close to blue.”  

“You shouldn’t say that.” She seemed upset. “You were Pink Diamond’s Personal Pearl.”

“Well—” I put my hand on her shoulder, looking at where I imagined her eyes to be under her dark mop of hair. “I’m no one now,” and before she could be upset about that too, I asked her, “What part of the chambers do you work in?”

“Oh—” she may have spilled her drink. “I tend to the maintenance room.”

“The maintenance room? But who goes in there enough where it would need cleaning?”

“No one, really, but it does get dusty sometimes.”

“Do you stay there all day?”

I asked her a lot of questions, and she did the same. She wondered what it was like to serve a Diamond—to be so close and even speak to one directly. It was cute to watch her reactions as I recounted my memories, which still hurt to talk about. But seeing her listen so intently and whisper small ‘wow’s made me feel something nostalgic. I miss that feeling of loving your Diamond, or even  _ The _ Diamonds. She took me back to a time when I wasn’t so fucking jaded. 

I told her if she ever feels daring enough to visit, she should come to the library. She told me she doesn’t know how to read, and I said I would read to her, if that’s what she wants. I don’t think it occurred to her that I want to see her.

I hope she stops by.


	12. Letter 12

Morganite,

That one Pearl hasn’t come to the library yet. Perhaps if she would visit I could ask her what she would prefer to be called. No one wants to be “That One Pearl.”

I was excited last night when the doors opened, but it was Blue Diamond’s personal Pearl. She wanted to fuck.

Yellow had come late for a visit, which was surprising because she would typically come in the evening, but never at that hour. It made more sense, however, when we watched them from the top floor of the library, because Blue was so distressed that Yellow had to hold her a while before they finally undressed.

I say “we watched,” but that’s inaccurate. Pearl was watching as I ate her out, and between moans she quietly told me what was happening.

“She’s— _ aah _ , she’s just crying—” She wove her fingers into my curls. “ _ Fuck _ , and Yellow is just—” She gasped. “She’s just holding her,  _ haa _ —”

“Are they naked?”

“Don’t stop—”

I ended up making her come twice before we switched places. Although, watching the Diamonds that time was more sad than arousing. Giving her slow kisses, Yellow fingered Blue as she cried softly. Blue moaned between tears without seeming conscious of them at all. 

The bags under Yellow’s eyes grew deeper and deeper. 

It was odd to see Yellow so gentle. Sometimes she’s a little rough with Blue, but this time she was bizarrely understanding for someone that bitchy, kissing away her tears.

Yellow wants desperately for Blue to love her. You can see it when they fuck. Yellow even tries her best to  _ make love _ . It’s in her eyes by the way she looks at Blue, but they’re just using each other.

In my opinion they haven’t suffered enough. I hope Blue falls into a depression so deep Yellow really will have to do all the work. I hope her fucking eyes cave in. 

After Pearl and I finished, we lay on the floor together. It was just as hard as usual, not aided by how thin we are. Like two glasses clinking together, I could feel her rib cage and her sharp bones as her knees collided with mine.

I told her we could go downstairs and sit in one of the chairs. “It would be more comfortable than the floor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Blue Diamond could come in here any moment.”

“But you always go to her.”

“Still,” she said, and we ended up laying quietly next to each other. My tailbone ached.

“Is there going to be another gathering sometime soon?” I asked.

“Why? Did you have fun last time?”

“I did.”

She looked at me through a few strands of her hair. Lying down, her mop had shifted, and I could make out a dark circle under her exposed eye.

She had these short blue lashes that made her look a little less tired, which she blinked before glancing to the ceiling. “I wish I could go, so we could arrive together. I could show them that they’re not the only ones who have friends.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve caught them whispering about how lonely I am. I haven’t bothered telling any of them of you, but I hope they saw us when we went to the market together. Did they say anything? About us?”

I hesitated before speaking, leaning back in to her. “Not that I heard.”

She sighed. “What I wouldn’t give to get away from Blue Diamond for even an evening. I love her, but she’s so miserable all the time. It’s exhausting.”

“I’m sorry,” I told her.

She ran a hand through my curls. “It’s not your fault. Anyway—” I felt her exhale, flattening further against the floor. “They hold one of those parties every couple of cycles. It’s inconsistent because they’re afraid of getting caught. I’ll let you know if I hear anything, but I probably won’t.”

I kissed her cheek. “They’re jealous of you.”

“I know,” she told me.

I’m familiar with the loneliness she’s talking about. I’m not sure it ever left. It just warped from one thing to another until it became so constant, I hardly recognize it anymore.

Some days I can’t feel anything.

I hope that one Pearl comes to visit. I want to give her a nickname.


	13. Letter 13

Morganite,

You don’t have to answer back with anything long, but can you let me know you’re still alive? I’m starting to worry. It’s a bit like chatting with Pink Diamond’s ghost, and I think I’ve lost enough sanity as it is.

I saw that Pearl again. It turns out there was another party, even though Blue Diamond’s Pearl didn’t have a chance to tell me about it. The same one who came to fetch me last time arrived as I was closing the windows to turn on the lights.

I studied each of the groups upon arriving, each of whom looked back at me in return. None stopped their conversations, but they had turned their eyes to me, tapping at their glasses as they talked.

I didn’t see her, so I stood against the fringe and waited. Perhaps they know about my relationship with Blue Diamond’s Personal Pearl, but I couldn’t figure out if they considered me above or below them. Was I a courtesan or a whore?

I decided that I was a regular slut and sipped my tea, watching them talk. How many of them were fucking? A few had hooked themselves together at the elbows while some held hands in different shades of blue.

Then she came in—that tiny shadow. Poking her head in around where I stood, we noticed each other, and she took the spot next to me.

“Hey, you didn’t come to the library,” I said.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t have the chance to.”

“Were you nervous?”

“Oh—” She colored, and I felt terrible. “I was a little nervous,” she said, “But it really was busy. The maintenance room has been so dusty recently.”

“I see.” I touched her shoulder. “Well, my offer still stands. You can visit whenever you like. How have you been anyway?”

Like the last time, we got to talking. With short pauses between topics, she asked me about my favorite books, and I asked her about her hobbies.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to have those,” she said. “I don’t really leave the maintenance room.” 

“But we ran into each other at the marketplace.”

“Oh!” She smiled. “I needed a part for one of the machines. I actually look forward to some of them breaking. It’s nice to get out.”

I held her by the shoulders. “Please come to the library.”

“I’ll try,” and she put her little hands on top of mine. “I’m anxious.”

“I’ll come to you then. I’ll bring a book and keep you company.”

“You don’t have to trouble yourself.”

I nearly shook her. “ _ I want to. _ ”

She agreed. I’m supposed to head over within the next couple of days, but even I have to admit, this might be a bad idea.

Even when I suggested it, I wasn’t sure what I was thinking. The filter between my mouth and my mind malfunctioned, but I want to read to her. Then again, learning to read was one of the worst things that’s happened to me. Literature has made me understand the details of my cage, from the slender brass bars to the fine handle on top.

I’m a bad influence.


	14. Letter 14

Pearl,

It’s been difficult not to write back to you. Even starting this note, I’m going back on my word, and I’ve tried so hard to follow the rules. But something happened today.

I thought I saw Jasper in the yard. She was sitting there, light shining upon her. From a distance she looked exactly as my Jasper, with her sandy hair and red war paint.

I was stunned, stiffened in place, staring at her. One of her arms was even crimson beneath her uniform. Only when she turned to me did I see it wasn’t her. Her gem was closer to her right shoulder, and I couldn’t look away. Even from that distance, I witnessed her pretty golden eyes, and she waved to me!

Have they placed her here to tempt me? Why would she wave, of all things? Yellow Diamond had even told me that I’ve been doing well. She said I’ve been working efficiently.

I shouldn’t be writing, but I have no one to talk to. Please forgive me. Through my corruption, I’ve corrupted you too.

—Morganite 


	15. Letter 15

Morganite,

It’s good to know you’re still alive. I’m sorry you think they placed that Jasper there to tempt you, but I’m not sure why they would do that. Don’t most Jaspers resemble one another anyway? I’m sure she waved at you because you were staring.

I’m about to head to the maintenance room, where I’ll be taking  _ The Life of Pearl _ . I don’t know if you’ve heard of it, but it’s a faux autobiography of White Diamond’s alleged first Pearl. It’s propaganda, but it is entertaining, due to the over-the-top dialogue between characters. I’m sure the author didn’t intend it to be amusing in that way, but it is. 

I’ll let you know how she likes it, if you want me to.

—Pearl 


	16. Letter 16

Dear Pearl,

Here I go, breaking my promises. I have to admit that your letters were one of the few things I looked forward to throughout the endless cycles. Whenever someone met hands with me in my uncomfortable office, and I felt them slip paper into my hand, it always gave me a rush of happiness.

I should tell you to stop writing. Even under normal circumstances, continuing this correspondence would be against the law, but I don’t want to quit. It’s lonely here.

I’ve heard of  _ The Life of Pearl _ , but have yet to read it. Perhaps one day I can. The boring law books you complain of, however, I’m quite familiar with.

The Jasper I told you about is in my group. We went to the same viewing room. She sat in the back while I was in the front—something I think the others are also jealous of (though, it’s more a matter of size than privilege). The entire time I had to stop myself from looking at her.

I’m sure you would have enjoyed that day’s video. It had to do with maintaining a correct distance from someone you’re speaking to, as not to touch. (Unfortunately, I have to touch for my job, but I appreciate the sentiment.) As the clips played, featuring two gems standing only a breath apart from each other, I turned my head degrees at a time to steal a glance at her. From my peripheral vision, I found her glorious hair, and the beginnings of the stripe over her eyes. I witnessed her smile when the actresses’ voices came out muffled in each other’s hair. I cursed emerging so short.

If only I were as tall as Goshenite, I might be able to sit next to her.

But I shouldn’t have these thoughts in the first place. That should be my true goal. I feel horrible, but it’s nice to confess my feelings to  _ someone _ . 

Before Jasper came, my more sinful urges began to dissipate. I managed to stop ruminating so much on  _ my _ Jasper, even though I shouldn’t call her that anymore. The point is I was focusing on my work and living a straightforward, purposeful life.

Now my skin feels desperate, especially as I’m sitting in this miserable room by myself, ‘taking notes’ as Yellow Diamond watches from the wall. It’s as though I’ve never been touched before, and am desperately curious to have someone’s hands on me. I want  _ her _ hands. I want to feel her emotions as she feels me, and we come to know every stretch of each other.    

I want to know her stripes as if they were mine. 

But I can’t say any of that. I shouldn’t be writing it. I shouldn’t be thinking it. 

The wise thing to do would be to tear this letter to pieces, but I can’t. I won’t and I can’t, and I feel terribly guilty. I even managed to have a short conversation with Agate during my progress report. I commented that it must be hard, watching over each of us, flirting with her without meaning to. She was about to stamp my card with the Diamond insignia, allowing me to go to the yard, when she stopped, a drop of ink landing on the paper. “It would be much easier, if they behaved as well as you do.” She marked my admission sheet.

As I left to go to the viewing room, she held the door open for me, and I couldn’t resist brushing against her, our bare arms meeting.

I know that’s horrible. I used her kindness as an opportunity to abuse my powers. I’m ashamed to learn that she likes me. It was only a glimpse, but I witnessed her pause along the high points of my cheeks, my hair, my lips, through the rosy lens of her affection.

It was small, with the potential to grow into something larger. I’m thankful she doesn’t seem to know my feelings toward Jasper.

To make matters worse, we spoke the same day. Nothing too long, mind you, but long enough. Like the moron I am, I approached her when we had free time in the yard, emboldened by my run-in with Agate, after she waved to me a second time.

They released us from the viewing room, and I did everything I could to avoid her, while paradoxically staring her stripes away. She didn’t catch me, luckily, until we entered the yard and the area opened past the hallway that led to it.

For several minutes, I tried to mind my own business, but with no one to speak to, I drifted to her.

Oh, Pearl. When she waved to me, (why must some Quartzes be so friendly?) she looked unbearably good-natured, as if she had no idea that I ended up here for loving a Jasper just like her, as if her colors weren’t as vibrant, or that she didn’t have the same plump lips. She didn’t seem to suspect me of such lewd thoughts.

Naturally, I couldn’t refuse approaching.

“Are you new here?” I maintained my distance. As silly as it is, the video’s message flashed in my mind, and I stopped steps from her. Although, I would have loved to whisper in her ear.

“I am,” she straightened her back as she blushed. “Are we supposed to keep what we did a secret? It seems like everyone already knows.”

“It really does feel that way, doesn’t it?” 

She chuckled, making me feel light-headed, but I continued as if on autopilot.

“Well, you don’t need to tell me, if you’d prefer. I think everyone deserves their secrets.” 

I winked. Why am I like this?

But she really smiled then, laughing and leaning in. “Hey, you’re pretty funny. What kind of gem are you?”

“I’m Morganite, and you’re a Jasper, aren’t you?”

“That’s right, Ma’am.” She winked back! “But I guess I’m not a very good one, since I ended up here.”

“Nonsense. I’m sure it’s nothing you can’t overcome. The Jaspers I’ve met are so determined. I’m sure you are too.”

“Thanks.” Her face turned red, and I died a moment. “I’ve never met a Morganite before.”

“Funny, neither have I. Not another one, anyway. I think it’s fair to say I’ve gotten to know myself a little too well.”

“It’s a lot of time to think.”

Just then, the guards called her, and as she turned, the flowery air around us sobered. So suddenly, my body grew cold. She stood to go.

I truly hope they weren’t drawing her away from me, but one’s first days in are filled with many interviews. They have to gather so much information.

Then again, perhaps I should be grateful.

It must be a sign, even though all I want is to talk to her.

Jasper said goodbye to me, grinning as she waved. I went back to my lonely world, where my shoes skidding provided the only conversation.

This letter is so long. I’m sorry. Yet another moral failing,

—Morganite  


	17. Letter 17

Morganite,

Can you please knock it off with all of this “moral failing” trash? I understand that we’re not supposed to write to each other, but there’s nothing inherently wrong with talking.

What they’re doing is cruel. I don’t blame you for flirting with Jasper, nor do I blame you for brushing against Agate. It sounds like it’s been a long time since you’ve spoken to anyone.

As I’m writing, I’ve since gone to the maintenance room. Finding it was difficult, as I had the directions but hadn’t had a chance to seek it out in daylight. Walking quickly throughout Blue Diamond’s chambers, I asked the night shift Pearls, who pointed me in the right direction.

The maintenance room’s entrance was as mechanical and awful as one might imagine. A big metal slab, it towered like the protective barrier to a panic room. When I knocked upon it, my knuckles rang with the hollow sound they produced. Shortly, the door opened with a pneumatic sigh and Pearl poked her head out and grabbed me by the wrist. “Come in!”  

In the middle of that narrow room with tall walls, dull glowing lights of all colors surrounded us. Perhaps they would have resembled stars if they weren’t in such perfect rows of matching colors.

“You came!”

We didn’t have much space between us, and my eyes had to adjust to the dimness inside the room, but I caught her grin. She didn’t show her teeth, but glowed, clasping her hands together before her chest.  

“Yeah, did you think I wasn’t serious?”

“No, it’s not that. I just can’t believe it, that’s all.” Before I could answer, she asked, “Do you want to sit down?”  

“Oh, sure.”

We sat, and from a small compartment near the floor, she pulled out her figurines. “When you asked me if I had any hobbies, I forgot to tell you about these.” She set one in my hand—a recreation of Blue Diamond constructed of bronze-colored foil. She had used a sheet for her veil, draped carefully over its body. The visible bottom half of her face had a simple curved line carved into it—perhaps with the sharp end of a nail. Her gem was done in the same way, etched into the metal. “I make them with the extra pieces that come off sometimes. I can’t believe I forgot.”  

“This is amazing,” I told her.

She smiled and handed me another— a Pearl in silver. For her limbs she had used long, broken springs and a bolt for the gem.

Once I had finished looking, she showed me a Peridot, based on the time one of the machines had a meltdown, then Yellow Diamond, which she made from seeing her briefly during Blue’s emergence day celebration. She remade Yellow’s Pearl as well, folding the foil to recreate the points of her hair and nose.

Compared to the other Pearls, she had made Yellow’s nose stick a little higher in the air. I got a good laugh from that.

“Now that I’ve seen you, I can make one of you too.” She began putting away the ones I had looked at.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“But I’d like to.” She stopped with Blue Diamond in her hands. “Please?”

“Well, alright. I’d love to see what you do with my hair.”

“That’s why I want to do it.” She looked right at me, one of her eyes escaping the veil of her hair. “I think you’re the only gem I’ve ever seen with curly hair. I might use some foil shavings, or even springs.” She thought for a moment, with her chin in her hand, before glancing at the book. “What did you bring?”

“Oh—It’s called,  _ The Life of Pearl _ . I thought I could read it to you.”

She was staring at the cover, which featured an illustrated Pearl heavily resembling White Diamond. I handed it to her, and she accepted it like a holy relic, fingers brushing over the pages without opening them.

“Is this what White Diamond looks like?”

“In Pearl form. You haven’t seen her?”

“She doesn’t come here often.” She stroked the cover, tracing the silver title with her thumb. “Even if she did, I wouldn’t be able to greet her.” Pearl handed it back. “Is she beautiful?”

Was she? I remember White by her exhaustion and the deep creases around her eyes. Certainly, she has the striking features all Diamonds have, but I hadn’t stopped to admire her when she would visit.

Perhaps I’ve seen her too up-close, in too much detail.

What do you think of her, Morganite?

“Sure,” I said, and opened the book to the first page, beginning to read.

The story starts with Pearl’s emergence, as many “biographies” from this period do. The anonymous author—White Diamond’s biggest fan—describes this scene in idealistic detail, like this Pearl is a goddess arising from the sea, birthed by White’s divine inspiration. The moment that they meet is just as dramatic. Pearl finds her Diamond and prostrates herself at her feet, knowing her purpose was to be servile.

I told you it was propaganda.

Despite that, she loved it. I read to the end of the first section and asked her if she wanted to hear more. She nodded enthusiastically, so I continued with her leaning forward and listening intently.

She gasped when more Pearls came along, and our heroine found one of them out to be a traitor. Of course, her gem is slightly misshapen so the audience would know she’s defective. No perfectly formed Pearl would ever  _ dream _ of being disobedient,  _ ever _ .

She clasped her hands over her mouth when White’s Pearl comforted her Diamond at one of her lowest points, when her empire became so large that she had to tend to it at all hours of the day, never stopping for herself. What a wonderful leader White is! And how loyal her Pearl! Is what the author wants you to think.

But still, she loved it, and seeing how much she loved it made me feel a little guilty for my cynicism.

I read to the end of part five, before Yellow Diamond emerges. By then, it was time that I go, having spent several hours.    

“I’ll try to come to the library,” she said, touching my hand. “I want to hear what happens next.”

“Alright,” I embraced her. “If not, I’ll come back the same time next cycle. In any case, I’ll see you around.”

She hesitated, but eventually hugged me back, really squeezing me. Just for a moment, I felt how soft her hair was as it brushed against my cheek.

I forgot to ask if she had a nickname. I have to go back.

—Pearl   


	18. Letter 18

Morganite,

You know, I forgot to mention it in the last letter, but paging through this book, its over-the-topness seems intentional. Almost. I wonder if the anonymous author was a Pearl in White’s court, either with a Diamond fetish or who is painfully sarcastic.

Look at this:

Oh, White Diamond, our Diamond so divine! 

She sits upon her throne, shining brightly, 

A beacon for the lost and the weary. 

No transgression can escape her eye, 

Silver and splendid, meritting more 

Than any coffer could procure 

Or any resource could ever sell. 

I’ve met White’s Pearl, and she’s nothing like this. She barely speaks. But then again, White’s Pearl isn’t even her first one. The first one was shattered. No one knows why.

It would be funny if this were a joke.

—Pearl 


	19. Letter 19

Dear Pearl,

Thank you. It’s nice to be told I’m not intrinsically evil, although sometimes I wonder.

I would have to agree, I don’t think it’s a joke. There are those that would love to praise White, and such literature is a good enough excuse to do it, even though telling her one found her sexy would be wildly inappropriate.

You asked me if I found her beautiful. I do. All the Diamonds are stunning in their own ways. White stays relatively still during her video, but her gem reflected many different colors, even in her slightest movements. I can see why we all belong to her; she must be a little pink at angles too.

Speaking of pretty gems, I’ve seen your friend somewhere in your memory, or at least a dark blue Pearl, at some point. I wish I could see her figurines, or her face as you read to her. 

I envy the loyalty she has to her Diamond, or the innocence of loving one’s Diamond so unconditionally. The most recent video they showed us pertained to loyalty; that if one loves her Diamond, she’ll receive love in return, that the best means of avoiding trouble is loving one’s Diamond.

I’m trying my hardest to love Yellow, but in all fairness, she doesn’t leave much to grasp onto.

Whenever I’m sent to her for visions, she restrains me for the exact amount of time it lasts before unceremoniously setting me onto the floor. Sometimes I haven’t even fully regained my consciousness. I have yet another reason to curse my powers. I’ve witnessed second and third-hand how White Diamond handles Goshenite, and how Yellow would hold Heliodor. Of course, she didn’t keep her that much longer, but Yellow was gentler with her. They would talk.

My visions are filled with such memories. Goshenite is so old, she’s passed down a subconscious history of other Beryls, and sometimes I encounter their faces. I don’t know them at all, but then, I do. I’ve witnessed obscure moments of their lives, where they might stow away a favorite book, or how they were excited to return home and greet their Pearls. I’ve seen their friends and enemies and all of their secret jokes, something silly one of them had said, something they would repeat without context.

Sometimes I see how they die.

Their trials come to me from Yellow’s point of view. I must remind her. It surprises me the sadness she feels, though to ask her, she would never admit it.

She loved some of them, as did White and Blue, but now they’re dead. Yet, here I am, alive and one of her least favorites.

Sometimes this life seems like an elaborate joke, and a cruel one at that, but I’ll keep trying. Perhaps if I can love Yellow, she might be able to love me, even though it’s hard when one sees everything she’s done.

I try to pay attention during viewings, but my mind wanders to Jasper. I want to know what she’s done too.

—Morganite 


	20. Letter 20

Dear Pearl,

You’ve sent me double letters, so I’ll send double as well. 

Jasper and I spoke in the yard today. She’s uncanny. Their voices sound so similar, yet there’s something soft in hers, something gentle. Despite looking and sounding like a Jasper, she doesn’t appear fierce. Like many other Quartzes, she’s friendly, but keeps her hands to herself, weaving her fingers together with her hands in her lap.

The closest she came was nearly touching me on the shoulder, but she stopped before that point. I’m certain we would have been in trouble, with the Agates watching us. She must have known that.

I’m sorry. I’m getting distracted by the small details, but I’m struggling to remember what we talked about. I was so overwhelmed by her, perhaps because we discussed what we did to end up here. 

She asked me first if I already knew, speaking as though she wanted to confess it to  _ someone _ . She looked so charming, with her cheeks reddened, sins weighing on her chest.

I told her I had no idea.

“Well,” she said, “I fused with someone,” and left it, a puzzle set before me.

I wanted to hold her hand, as she looked like it had taken so much to admit that, as if we both weren’t criminals, as if  _ I _ hadn’t done more and worse.

I told her that it was alright, that I had fused too.

“It’s not alright. I’ve ruined my life for nothing.”

“You aren’t ruined. The reason you’re here is because you’ve been given another chance.”

“That’s true,” she said. “I just thought I might find her here, but she’s probably been sent somewhere else. I heard that there’s more than one facility like this.”

“I didn’t know that,” I told her. “In any case, I’m sure she’s out there.”

“That doesn’t make much difference,” she granted me a sad smile. “I doubt I’ll ever see her again, even if they do let me out.”

“You can’t know that for certain. The aim of this program is to make it so you can interact with other gems normally. Perhaps one day you’ll be able to talk without temptation.”

I imagined touching her.

“Yeah,” Jasper looked at me. I really had to keep myself from taking her hand.    

“I have more work than you do,” I told her. “I’m here for making love with my bodyguard, and seducing my Pearl, amongst other things. I think my crimes could fill a book, I became so accustomed to doing what I liked. Yet, they’ve told me not to give up, so you shouldn’t either.”

“Thank you, Morganite. I’m glad I have you to talk to.”

I know the cameras are watching even as I write this, but I’ve been wanting to touch myself since I returned. I wish I didn’t have these urges in the first place, but I’m not certain I’ll ever come to that point.

—Morganite 


	21. Letter 21

Morganite,

I can’t blame you for feeling the way you do. For all the authorities’ talk about avoiding fusion, fucking, and friendship, all of that seems pretty natural to me.

Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate that you’re trying to get better. Loving, or at least  _ attempting _ to love Yellow sounds like a good enough plan, but the system is rigged. Well, except in my case. I’ve somehow found the sweet spot of cloying pity and dusty relichood that I doubt Blue will shatter me no matter what. Although, at this point I would miss my new friend. 

I saw her recently at a gathering. We’ve grown used to finding each other, as I always stand in the same place, and she appears from the darkness, through the fringe. 

Every time she shows up, the others turn to look at us. They don’t bother keeping the judgement from their faces, sneering the moment she arrives.

I hate them. They’re worse than some nobles (sorry), acting like they’re better than her. We’re all fucking Pearls—house Pearls, at that. What should it matter that one cleans Blue’s salon and the other the maintenance room?

I guess with little else to do outside of work, they become petty. I can’t blame them when all that’s available is shit-talking.

I asked her what she had been up to lately.

“I’ve been working on your figurine, but it’s not done yet.” She fondled the ends of her skirt. “I was thinking of bringing it, but I decided to show you when it’s done, if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” I touched her on the head, which made her smile. “Take as long as you need.”

“Thank you.” She grew quiet then, continuing to wrinkle her outfit. “Umm,” her small voice picked up, “I wanted to come to the library, but I was too nervous. I actually made it as far as the salon before I forgot the way and ended up running back, but—” It was hard to see in the dim light, but I’m sure she blushed. “I really want to hear the next part of the story. Do you think…”

“I’d be happy to come back.” I touched her shoulder, and she beamed. “How about I bring the book with me tomorrow?”

“Oh, would that be okay? I know it’s short notice.”

“Of course. It’s not like I have much going on. I’d much rather read to you than spend the night in that dusty library.”

“Don’t say that…Surely the library is better than the maintenance room.”

“No, the maintenance room has you in it.”

I might have killed her, but if I did, she only died a few moments before resurrecting, touching my arm. “Thank you,” she said. “You’re too kind.”

She’s too cute.

We talked about other things for a while. She told me about when she snuck into the kitchen the first time and stole her first sip of tea. “I don’t like to do too many things like that,” she said. “I know I’m not supposed to and I don’t want to upset Blue Diamond, but sometimes…” She paused, dramatically. “Sometimes I want tea.”

“Do you remember what flavor it was?”   

“Oh! It came from Earth, I think.”

“I see,” I told her. “Was it a fruit? Have you ever heard of blueberries?”

“Blueberries? No, what’s that?”

“They’re small, round berries, which are very dark blue, and sweet. Like you. I’ve been meaning to ask you if you had a nickname.”

“A nickname?” She blushed again. “I’m not important enough for a nickname. I guess the others call me ‘Maintenance Pearl?’”

“That’s terrible.”

“Why? It’s accurate, isn’t it?”

“I guess, but it makes you sound like a machine.” We looked at each other a moment. She had clasped her hands together, waiting for me to continue in a state of flattery and confusion. “I’d like to call you Blueberry,” I said, “but we can think up something else, or maybe nothing at all, if you prefer ‘Pearl.’ It’s up to you.”

She responded slowly. “I’ve never thought of having a nickname before.”

“Well, consider it. If ‘Blueberry’ sticks and you don’t mind it, I’ll call you that, but only if you don’t hate it.”

“Okay,” she said, accepting and serious, touching my arm again. “I’ll think about it.”

I thanked her.

I hope she likes Blueberry. She’s so cute sometimes it makes me want to die. I wanted to take her hand too, but I had made her uncomfortable enough for one evening. There’s no use in pushing my luck.

I’ll let you know how our reading session goes.

—Pearl      


	22. Letter 22

Morganite,

I suppose two letters are becoming a trend?

As I’m writing this, it’s been a day or two since I went to the maintenance room. Then again, I could be off—I haven’t kept track of time. In any case, I thought I would give you a chance to answer back before writing, but I guess I can wait to send this letter. But I probably won’t.

When I arrived, Blueberry pulled me in immediately after I knocked. Before we could exchange greetings, she told me that she thought about her nickname and that she decided she liked it. “I think it fits,” she said. “It’s special.”

We took our places on the floor and began reading. She fell into a meditative stillness, her lips bent slightly upward, aggressively glad to hear the story.

Before I started, I said, “You know, if you come to the library, we have more comfortable seats. I could read to you as you sit in an armchair.”

“Okay,” she replied, almost impatiently. “I promise I’ll try to go next time, but please read to me.”

I laughed a little, cleared my throat, and began on part five, which starts with Yellow Diamond emerging.

The author describes her as shining like a sun as her light beams into existence, exploding like lightning and thunder. Once the dust clears, she spends an ample amount of time detailing Yellow’s newly formed,  _ naked _ body, sturdy and glistening.

Clearly, she’s never seen it.

I can tell you that underneath her armor, Yellow is lean, certainly, but slender enough to need shoulder pads to look intimidating.

She has a few marks here and there. I’ve studied her through the border of two books, and I’ve found every imperfection—a mark on her shoulder, or the tiny, barely visible discoloration at the nape of her neck.  

Under one of her gloves—I can’t remember which, she has a scratch, likely afflicted after her emergence. Someone might have cut her deeply with a nail, the wound jagged on top.

I’d like to know the story of that scar. Did White or Blue leave it? Did Pink? I can’t imagine My Diamond cutting her, but there are moments between them I didn’t witness.

I would rather read about that, personally. I want to know what horrible things they say to each other when no one is watching, but Blueberry loved the idealized version. Like the last time, she leaned forward, straining her focus under her mop of hair. I wouldn’t have been surprised to glance at her from my page and find an eye dangling from her socket, popping out from the pressure.

We stopped reading after Yellow’s tutelage under White. It details a long subplot, in which Yellow colonizes her first planet. Of course, White was there for the entire event, and so was her Pearl. That’s why we have such a “detailed account.”

I wondered if she witnesses Yellow get that scratch. Does she bleed gold?

Once I had stopped reading, Blueberry asked, “Are they all this good?” I caught her looking at me through a part in her bangs.

“Honestly, I think there are many that are even better.”

She looked scandalized.

“I chose this one because it was one of the first ones I read.” I had told it to My Diamond, but I didn’t say that. Talking about those times makes my eyes water. They always will. “Books are like gems. Some are big, small, long winded, minimalistic. Some try to be fancy while others just exist. It’s interesting, how much you can tell about an author’s personality.”

“Wow,” she said, and took a few seconds. “After this one, will you read another to me? If you don’t mind?”

“I’d be happy to.”

She hugged me, thanked me, and we went our separate ways. I wish I could see her as soon as tomorrow, but I can’t risk sneaking to the maintenance room too often. Getting in trouble might mean seeing her less, and it’s nice to have something to look forward to.

—Pearl


	23. Letter 23

Hey Morganite,

Are you doing okay? It’s been a while since I’ve heard from you. You usually write back by now.

I’m trying to decide what book I should read to Blueberry next. Any suggestions?

—Pearl


	24. Letter 24

Oh, Pearl.

I was caught with one of your notes.

Agate found it during one of the random cell searches, though I’m beginning to wonder how ‘random’ they are. She burst in when I had your letter right here. It was too late to shove it into my mouth, and for a moment, we regarded each other, unmoving.

Her face reflected a kind of betrayal. She even shook her head as she dragged me into the hall. We didn’t exchange words.  

I was certain it was over for me. Her hand bruised my wrist as she pulled me, and I felt her disappointment, but in my panic, I plotted, forgetting any moral implication.

We sat at opposite sides of her desk as she slapped my file onto it, papers spilling out as it slid.

“I’m disappointed in you.” Your note sat atop it all, radically different in its handwritten nature, compared to the rigidly formatted test questions and essay spaces. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry,” I began to cry. My tears, however exaggerated, were real. “I know I deserve to suffer, but I long to have a companion, someone to hold every once in a while—I’ve been having such a difficult adjustment, and it seems that everyone is doing so  _ well _ . I don’t know what’s the matter with me.  _ I’m sorry _ .”

Agate reached across my papers, and took my hand. I was surprised, but I looked at her through my tears, sure to tilt my head in such a way to give my face a good angle. 

She sighed. “Do you promise not to send or receive notes any longer?”

“I promise.”

“Then I’ll let this one slide, but you had better not do it again.”

“I promise I won’t.”

She surprised me with what happened next. She embraced me, Pearl. I’m not sure how I feel toward her; she’s a bit strict for my taste, but it felt nice to be held after going untouched for so long.

I’m sorry to continue writing. I absolutely shouldn’t, yet I feel the need to confess what has happened to  _ someone _ . It hurts to think of us never speaking again.  


	25. Letter 25

Are you sure, Morganite? We can stop writing. It seems like these notes are putting you in danger. Let me know. 

—Pearl  


	26. Letter 26

(Written on the back of letter 25)

No, please. I love reading about your life. Just give me time to decide what I should do.


	27. Letter 27

Dear Pearl,

I kissed Agate today. It happened after my progress report, before I was to go to the viewing room. I’m not sure what came over her; she hadn’t even mentioned your note, though I’m certain we both considered it, lingering in the air between us.

As she went over my work, I could tell that something had changed in her. She glanced at me between pages with a kind of tenderness, eyebrows slightly bent, lips curled. She must have wanted to say  _ something _ , but her unspoken words would remain a secret inside her mouth, unless she transferred her message from her lips to mine. I’m certain she was aware.

Agate stamped my sheet and walked me to the door, a large metal slab without any windows. Her entire office was that way, windowless, a box of four neutral walls. Surely she must have felt trapped here too.

We paused steps before it. Perhaps we were both thinking the same thing. She set her hand on my shoulder and quickly, silently, kissed me.

I gasped, receiving days’ worth of longing and curiosity in the space of a few seconds. Her kiss was a premeditated act, something she had wanted, something she had yet to do. Her touch was so soft and innocent, I felt as though I had been brushed by a feather. 

I can’t remember if she pushed me gently from the room or if I went myself. I remember seeing Pearl with her arms crossed, giving me an odd look before entering.

I’m not sure how to feel about her, or how I feel about where this kiss of hers will lead us. In some ways, I’m comforted that she’s my accomplice; you can’t commit a love crime without a partner, but  _ stars _ , what I wouldn’t give to replace her with Jasper! 

She waved to me today. Jasper, I mean. She’s so sweet.   

I feel so conflicted. I long for that sort of affection, albeit, not from  _ her _ .  

I might ask her not to do such a thing again. She may regret it as of now, but it’s difficult to say. I picked up no remorse when she touched her mouth to mine.

—Morganite     


	28. Letter 28

Morganite,

Is she allowed to do that? I mean, if you don’t want her kissing you, could you report her? Do you have a higher-up that would believe you? 

I wonder if any of the other prisoners are engaging in this kind of behavior. There could be a means not to get caught. Maybe you could have an affair of sorts with Jasper. Agate might even know some places where security is lacking. They couldn’t have posted cameras around the  _ entire _ facility, could they?

Speaking of illicit activity, Blueberry came in just as night was beginning. I had taken up a spot in an armchair, laying inside it propped against one arm, legs hanging over the other. Twilight had just begun to infiltrate the enormous library windows, pale lavender light reaching down and illuminating her shadow as she slipped through the door.

In the darkness, she appeared as a silhouette—a delicate shape cut from paper and projected into the room, at least until she moved close enough. She greeted me steps away, hands behind her back. “Is it okay to visit now? Should I come back later?”

“No—” I said, rising from the chair. “Now is fine. I was just thinking about you.”

Perhaps somewhat embarrassingly, I had left the book open and face down over my gem, creating a small, literary tent for it. I’m sure I looked a mess—uniform wrinkled from sitting inappropriately, hair tangled along the lip of the chair. 

Still, she came to me. “I finished your miniature.” Inside her hands was a small, golden rendition of me, posing like a dancer on the stage of her palms. For my hair, she had used curly gold shavings, and had somehow shaped them into more cooperative locks than what my actual hair does.

The details of my face were simplified—a bent line for a smile, two likable dots arranged on either side of a pointed nose, cute like a doll’s. 

“I want you to have it,” she said before I could finish reacting. “I want to thank you for all the time you’ve spent reading to me. Maybe you could find somewhere good for it, so no one else will find it.” Her cheeks had colored, and with closed book in one hand, I hugged her, careful not to crush the miniature.

“Thank you. I love what you did with my hair.” I had set my chin upon her crown and felt as she squeezed me. There was hardly any space that hadn’t disappeared between us.

“We might finish the story today,” I told her. “We’re getting into the last third.”

“Please read to me,” she said.

As I sat her in one of the chairs, she admitted that she finished the miniature to find the courage to come here. “I knew that once I finished your miniature, I would come here. I couldn’t wait to show you.”

“I can see why,” I turned to the page I had marked by folding the yellowing paper. “I’ll cherish it forever.” 

“Thank you,” she curled up in the chair as I cleared my throat and read. We left off on Part Eleven, when the plot finally oscillates back to White Diamond as she takes a tenth colony.

Even I have to admit that I enjoy this part of the story. The author seemed to get a better grasp on her pacing. There are several small arcs throughout. Some involve White calmly and reasonably solving disputes, presented as lessons to be learned. One particularly famous moment is when White moderates a dispute between two gems. I’d like to state that their audience with her is particularly idealistic, because I know for a fact that for a regular gem to hold a meeting with her, it involves a decades-long waiting list, and that’s if the request is accepted. I once called that line by accident when arranging an appointment for My Diamond, but who knows? This book is well older than me and maybe things were different then.   

Anyway, the gems are arguing about a ship, one being the builder and the other the captain receiving it. The ship was so well-made that it’s described as having, “an exterior of shining silver, / cast in abject perfection, a true sight, / containing the color of her Diamond’s eye.” It seems fairly obvious who would receive the ship nowadays, but then, it must have been eye-opening for White to say, “It is your reward to serve Your Diamond, / and know that you have done a stellar job. / Keep your memories of my compliments / as your trophy.”  

Other events include quiet conversations between Yellow and White Diamond, and White and her Pearl. They’re so deeply personal that I wonder if these portions were scandalous upon their release. The content isn’t too egregious; White mostly talks about how difficult it is to be a Diamond and how she takes this burden for us.

(Okay.)

But there’s something gentle in the way the author describes it, that she allowed White to have faults and become tired, or that she described Pearl’s conversations with her. I’ve never seen White acknowledge her most recent Pearl outside of giving her a command, but allegedly, White enjoyed this book. Do they talk in secret?

Maybe she got a good laugh from it, knowing how untrue it is.

The story ends with Blue’s emergence after White commissioned her, which is just as, if not more so, idealized than Yellow’s. Like Yellow, she takes great pains to describe her beauty, recording every curve down to the degrees.

She stopped there because Blue had just emerged as she was writing it. Since it would have been impolite to exclude an existing Diamond, she wrote that the ending. She would have had to write about Blue’s experiences otherwise, at which point her active lying would likely get her into trouble.

Nonetheless, Blueberry listened attentively as usual, brightening at this part especially. Anyone would, hearing about their Diamond. I wonder what this author would have to say about Pink. She never did write a sequel.

The last page has the other two Diamonds welcome Blue by embracing her. They take the shape of the former and current authority logo, with one of White’s arms around Yellow and the other around Blue.

When I closed the book, I looked up to find a few tears making their way along Blueberry’s cheeks. Quietly, she wiped them, her breathing subtly rigid.

“Are you alright?” I asked her. I’ve never heard of anyone crying at this ending.

“Oh, yes. I’m fine.” She shifted in the armchair, clearing her face. Early morning light illuminated the windows, but we were washed in the shadows, fading along the edges. “I’m sad it’s over because I loved it the whole time, and that you were kind enough to read it to me. My life is better, now that I know this story.”

“Now you know what I love about reading.”

“Thank you,” she said. We embraced, and mindlessly, I kissed her on the forehead. I felt her gasp, but she didn’t pull away to accuse me, as I had feared. Instead, she kissed me on the cheek, our noses conflicting a few seconds. Blushing, she stepped away.

“Thank you,” Blueberry said again, and ran away, giggling.

I stood there, wishing she would come back.

—Pearl 

 


	29. Letter 29

Dear Pearl,

I’m quite certain Agate is not supposed to put her hands (or mouth) on me. She was even thinking of that as she did it, remembering the training she received and proper conduct with inmates.

I suppose if I wanted to report her, I could tell Yellow Diamond, but I’m not sure she would believe me.

I had a vision and went to her. It’s odd because, as if through a dream-like transition, I’m at once in the facility, and in an instant, wake up beneath her hand.

Most recently, my vision detailed many gems. This has happened before, where those I’ve only brushed against come to haunt me. They flash by so quickly, but I see what they’ve done, next to what I’ve done, and I come away feeling dirty.

My guilt congeals with theirs, but I’ve allowed them to get away with some of their crimes for the sake of sending you letters.

When I awoke, I had embraced My Diamond’s index finger, smearing it with blood. It appeared so off—my dark pink against her bright yellow. It tied a knot in my stomach.

I called her name in a gasp, and drew her eyes. “My apologies,” I said. “I’ve dirtied your glove.”

“Why do you think I wear them?” 

I couldn’t see, but I hope she smirked when she said that. I hope it was a little joke between us. At that moment, I could have confessed everything, but the courage escaped me. Telling her of Agate and your letters and the filthy things I’d like to do to Jasper would mean no longer speaking to her, or you, or even Yellow Diamond. Perhaps for even saying such a thing, she would have ground me to powder. I felt her irritation at having my blood on her. She had just cleaned her gloves.

That’s why I fear telling her. She would be irritated to have to deal with such an issue. It’s not guaranteed she would believe me anyway. Given my history, any reasonable gem might assume it was my fault, for tempting her, and perhaps our notepassing would come to light. Yellow would be sure to ask Agate her side of the story. 

But it’s not only that. That awful part of me is considering using her. Perhaps there are pieces of information that could come in handy one day, for something or other, if an affair were even possible.

Perhaps it is.   

I encountered Agate as I returned to my cell. Her eyes followed, I noticed, affixed to me. 

She watches from the sidelines in the yard. When I was speaking to Jasper yesterday, I saw her, white in the shadows as we stood in the light.

Yet another front to feel terrible. I can hardly recall what it was that Jasper was saying. Her colors distract me. Sometimes a lock of hair comes loose to rest upon her cheek, and my retention drops further, but that day—it was so hot that day, I was divided amongst her crimson and her hair, and Agate.

I kept glancing to her, at one point even prompting Jasper to notice. Unassuming, she looked for a moment, but made nothing of it. We continued speaking.

Oh, Pearl. I feel awful from so many directions.

—Morganite


	30. Letter 30

Agate called me in to the office today to talk. Technically, she can call us any time she pleases, if we make progress, or a mistake, though I’ve never heard of her calling upon anyone outside of normal meetings. The gems in my group keep to themselves. Even if some struggle to complete their assignments, they never cause trouble. We’re not violent offenders, after all.  

She sat across from me, fingers woven together on the desk. She wouldn’t quite look at me, either, finally speaking. “I don’t know what you’ve done to me.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I apologized.

“Was it alright, that I kissed you?”

“I can’t say I minded it. You didn’t anger me.”

“I want to do it again,” she said. “There are no cameras here. We won’t get caught.”

Through some series of events, she ended up holding me on her lap, pushing her tongue into my mouth. I allowed her to. I liked the sensation. I liked when she took my clothes off; I liked when she pushed her fingers inside of me.

Agate was awkward at first. She hadn’t done this before, but when she did well, I moaned quietly into her ear, so no one outside could hear.

With her inside of me, I could see myself within her mind. She was already mad, overheating, out of breath, but I posed my body in ways that pleased her. I flipped my hair. I played with myself. I made her desire more. 

It felt nice to be touched again, to have the large fingers of a Quartz inside me. I whispered instructions into her mind,  _ move your hand more; hook your fingers this way _ . She listened and it pleased me as I controlled both of us.

Once I had climaxed, she let me go. It had already overwhelmed her. I told her that next time, I would make her feel good.

Next time, I’ll put my tongue inside her and speak words into her mouth. Even though I shouldn’t. I know this is wrong, but in the position I was in, could I reliably tell her no? Would she have accepted that answer?

I’m such a slut. I wish life were easier.

—Morganite


	31. Letter 31

Morganite,

I mean, you are a slut, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. It seemed like before, you were able to carry on your relationships and finish your work. It’s Homeworld’s problem for being so stuck up. 

Fuck it. Take her for all she’s worth. There must be some advantages to being your overseer’s favorite. You’re making the best of a shit situation.   

Speaking of which, I went to visit Blueberry after Blue Diamond’s Pearl had come. Laying on the library’s second floor, I listened to her breathing as she played with my curls.

“She tries too hard,” she was saying. “Yellow won’t let her use any adjectives between ‘My’ and ‘Diamond,’ so she ends up saying it with too much emphasis. ‘Thank  _ you _ , My  _ Dia _ mond!’ I wish she would stop.” We both breathed in, cramped together. “I’m sure Yellow hates that too, but she doesn’t tell her to knock it off because then it would be something else.”

“I don’t know. I can’t say I haven’t done ridiculous things for My Diamond before. Sometimes you see her and you want so badly for her to smile, you could just start singing.”  

“Maybe that’s why Yellow lets her carry on, under the threat of musical numbers.”

As we were laying there, the door opened and closed. Having jolted upward, we flashed on our uniforms, yet where Blue Diamond would have stood was only empty space, dim in the nascent twilight.

“Hello?” Pearl called. We watched a shadow escape through the door again. It appeared to be about the size of another Pearl, but moved too quickly to assign a shape.

As fast as it came, it left. Adjusting her panties, Pearl looked into the bookcase, at the Diamonds.

“They’re both still there,” she said. “I doubt My Diamond sent anyone either. It must have been a mistake.”

“Still, what a rush. Can you imagine if we got caught?”

She tilted her head. “What’s wrong with you?” She straightened out her skirts. “Well, I should be getting back. I’m sure she’ll come out any moment now.”

“Alright. See you around.”

I kissed her goodbye and watched as she slipped through the doors, letting in the mellow light from the hall.

For the next visit, I brought with me  _ Fright! _ a book of short horror stories, and  _ Mark of the Red Diamond _ , a mystery detailing markings that appear randomly on gems’ bodies. Have you heard of either of them?  

Once approved by the censors, neither became part of Homeworld’s literary canon. You wouldn’t see them on any aristocrat’s list of recommended books. It might even be gauche to like them, but they’ve helped me pass the days. Like a lot of Blue’s books, these too were untouched. I wonder if a Pearl bought them in secret with Blue’s credits. I couldn’t imagine her requesting them.  

I tucked both under my arm as I knocked on the maintenance room door and Blueberry pulled me in. We spoke at the same time. I asked her, “Did you come to the library?” while she said something else in our collision of words. “Sorry, what?”

“I’m sorry,” Blueberry hid her mouth under her hand. “I shouldn’t have kissed you last time. I knew that you were friends, but—”

“What?” My face grew hot. “Pearl and I aren’t in a committed relationship, not that we’ve talked about, anyway. I doubt she’d be upset you kissed me on the cheek.”

“Oh,” she said.

“Listen though, I’m sorry you came all the way to the library for nothing. I guess it was just bad timing. I don’t usually have company.”

“It’s okay,” she looked stressed, picking at her nails, “But it’s really alright, that I kissed you?”

“I don’t see the big deal.”

I told her about the books. She said both sounded kind of scary, but decided on  _ Mark of the Red Diamond _ , which I assured her wasn’t too bad. 

“This one is more contemporary,” I slotted my finger into the first page of chapter one. “It’s not going to sound like  _ The Life of Pearl _ , because it’s meant to be entertaining.”

“Was  _ The Life of Pearl _ …not?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “I think it was trying to be important, but you’re just supposed to have fun with this one.” I started reading.

_ Mark of the Red Diamond _ is a lot trashier than I remember, with plenty of cliffhangers and melodrama.

There’s a moment when one of the main characters, an Aquamarine, is found unconscious. The author had indicated she was coming closer to the culprit, having followed the graffiti to a deserted colony. The way she’s described is over the top, like, “Marks of crimson enveloped her utterly, clashing with her most pleasant cerulean.” It was hard not to smirk, but Blueberry seemed to enjoy it. I was enjoying it too, even knowing how it ends. She looked shocked at points, shaken up by the “red diamonds bleeding down the walls,” enough to lean in and listen closely. I could feel her staring beneath her bangs, gasping.

She’s so cute, Morganite. If I had any artistic talent at all, I would draw her for you. 

We ended up reading until I couldn’t have possibly stayed any longer. Morning light peaked through the door when I finally stood to leave. As usual, we embraced amid the promises of meeting again, and she kissed me on the lips.

Before I could register what happened, she was pushing me out the door, giggling. “You better go,” I heard her say, “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

I was left standing outside, nearly dropping my books. Eventually, I headed back amongst the other house Pearls coming out and greeting one another.

—Pearl


	32. Letter 32

Dear Pearl,

Thank you for your honesty. Perhaps you’re right, and Homeworld is stuck up, but I still feel I should try harder.  

Blueberry sounds adorable. I wish there were a way I could see her. Some days I long to visit you and the gems in your life, though I know this is impossible. Even when I wasn’t a prisoner, absconding to Blue Diamond’s court would have proved quite the task.

Fortunately, I was able to speak with Jasper today, after we had watched a video featuring White Diamond. She had returned to graciously encourage us, sitting in the center of the frame with her hands over her lap.

Like last time, she took her time speaking, blinking dramatically like a true empress. It worked. Even before she spoke, I felt her gravity, having given her time to  _ us _ .

“Sometimes you may find yourself tempted to stray from your path. It is hard to escape all of your old ways when reforming your behavior.” She looked down, as if she were tainted by every vile thought coursing within the walls of this place. “During such a time, it is important you consider your Diamond. Think of what  _ she _ would want. Imagine her as if she were to watch you commit whatever act you’re considering. What would she say?” She paused, staring into all of us. “If she wouldn’t be pleased, it’s time to reconsider, which you  _ are _ capable of. You are not broken.”

The director, whoever that was, left the cameras rolling, allowing White to look on for a moment, as if we were meant to find our reflection in her eyes. Ultimately, they showed nothing but the set’s lighting. The video ended as she glanced downward.

They let us outside for quiet reflection, and I found Jasper in our normal place, appearing as though she had been crying. Those gorgeous eyes of hers had become cavernous. She didn’t greet me, merely looking up and smiling for my sake.

“What a video,” I said.

“Yeah. You really get to thinking about what a failure you are. I’ve let My Diamond down, and I can’t even serve her while I’m here. I’m just kicking myself for falling in love so easily. This always happens.”

I told her I knew what she meant. 

“At least you get to leave. I’d give anything to go anywhere else,” she said. 

“Trust me, my office is as terrible as this place. It’s so embarrassing, being chained up and dragged along for everyone to see. I encounter my old best friend frequently, but it’s hard for her to look at me. It hurts her.”           

Jasper regarded me with such sympathy, I could have died. “Sounds brutal,” she said. “I just miss going on missions. It was so exhilarating, to travel to other planets, but I guess that’s where I got in the most trouble. They found out about the fusion.”

“I’ve gotten into trouble on other planets too!”   

She chuckled.

“I know exactly what you mean about falling in love so easily. Sometimes I grow terribly dizzy. It’s the worst.” I couldn’t stop talking, it felt so good. “I don’t know what the others have told you about me, but my last bodyguard was a Jasper too, and was just as beautiful, but listening to that video today, I know interacting with Jaspers itself isn’t intrinsically wrong. It’s my conduct that needs to change, and your being here can help me learn to control myself.”

She smiled, shyly revealing her top row of teeth. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“You have everything,” I told her.  

_ Oh, Pearl. _ She swept her hair back, delightfully overwhelmed. She couldn’t quite look at me, the color of her cheeks darkened. “Since we’re being honest, I think you’re cute too. I’m grateful you talked to me, even if it’s only because I’m a Jasper.”

“No,” I said. “You were the first one who was kind to me. That’s why.”

Briefly, I touched her hand, but withdrew as if I had accidentally put it inside a fireplace. She left me as warm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay. Why don’t we think about Yellow Diamond? That should make up for it.”

But they called us back to our cells as soon as we shut our eyes, and I caught Agate watching me return.

What am I to do, Pearl? Sometimes all I can think about is her. I want to sit in a field of flowers together as we talk about everything or nothing at all, and I can listen to her heart beating. I couldn’t keep away from her today; I’m so useless, and I’ve relapsed. Even as I’m working, holding hands with all of those criminals only reminds me of the one criminal’s hand I want to hold the most. I was made to touch and be touched, but I’m twisted. Whenever I think of what Yellow would want for me, all I can imagine is her smirking down at me, anticipating leaving her office to fuck Blue.

I wouldn’t merely fuck Jasper; I would love her.

Maybe I am broken.

—Morganite


	33. Letter 33

You’re not broken, Morganite. Homeworld is, and we’re cursed to play by its rules, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t understand. White told you to think of your Diamond, but Yellow is no more your Diamond than Blue is mine.

Not that I want you to give up. You can change if you put your mind to it, I guess. Maybe you can’t stop loving Jaspers, but you don’t have to act on your emotions. As long as you can put on a façade of being pure or whatever, I’m sure they’ll let you out eventually.

You might be glad to know that you’re not the only one I’m a bad influence on.

I met Blueberry at another party. She had arrived before I did this time, and when I approached, she nearly dropped her teacup. I’m shocked that I was able to surprise anyone, pink as I am, but her face darkened as she greeted me with a quiet, “Hey.”

“Hey, how are you?”

“I’m fine.” She progressed into color the way she did into silence.

“Are you sure? You’re looking a little shy this evening.”

She took a long breath. “ _ I’m sorry I kissed you again. _ ” Her words came out so quickly, it took me a moment to comprehend them. “I just—I’m nervous because I promised myself I would be honest with you, and the truth is that I like you. I’m sorry if you don’t want me to kiss you anymore. It’s just—” she stopped to inhale again. “I’ve always wanted to know what that was like, and I took it from you. I’m sorry.”

“Well—” I touched her hand. “What was it like?”

I expected the other Pearls to watch us, but no one was. The chatter hadn’t stopped, nor had the laughter, but she held my hand as if there was no one else, and we alone stood beneath the ottoman.

“I liked it a lot.” Her voice was quiet. “Actually, I can’t think of much else. I thought that once I finally kissed someone, I could stop wondering, but now it’s even worse. I want to do it again.”

“Oh, Blueberry,” I hugged her. “That’s totally normal.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Of course not.”

She held me tightly, as if something was coming to get her the moment she let go. To ease her fears, I hugged her back, hardly a molecule between us, and she asked into my ear, “Would you let me do it again?”

I answered as quietly, “Yeah, you can do it again,” then paused. “Do you want to get out of here?”

She nodded, and I put our teacups back as she picked at her nails, waiting. Returning to her, we slipped beneath the fringe as she pulled me to the library. “I want to sit in one of those chairs,” she said. “I’ve been thinking of it since I saw them.”

Our mouths connected the moment the library doors shut. Blueberry pulled me in, hands in my hair as we stumbled backward into an armchair, her in my lap with my tongue in her mouth.

We kissed for minutes before she stopped to tell me she wanted to touch me, and I took her hand and placed it on my chest. She was shaking, but it didn’t stop her from peeling my uniform off and spreading herself all over me.

Despite being visibly nervous, she took what she wanted. When I touched her she was responsive, loud. She would arch her back, and beneath her bangs I could see her eyes squeezed shut, and the deep blush on her cheeks. That drove me mad.

When we had finished, having both run out of energy, we cuddled, and I couldn’t help but notice we fit perfectly together. Her head on my chest, I stroked through her hair and there was nothing else to say. She slept until it was time for her to go back to the maintenance room, at which point we separated by unlinking our hands.

“I’ll see you later,” she told me.

I kissed her through the gap between the door and the frame.

—Pearl 


	34. Letter 34

Oh Pearl,

Your time with Blueberry sounds lovely. Reading about it, I must say, I felt slightly jealous. I long for sex like that—the kind where you’ve both come to know and trust each other, giving into your desires. My time with Jasper was almost that way, though she distracted me with her worries of being found out. I suppose if I could experience such a moment with this new Jasper, we would both be anxious about being caught. Though, I still want to share that level of intimacy.

I try to imagine her when I go to Agate. Today I learned about her past, before her assignment as caregiver. Information about her comes to me in flashes. They’re not quite visions, but scenes that play in my mind for a few moments. In a tiny explosion that leaves my ears ringing, I go from not knowing to knowing, witnessing as if I had lived these things firsthand.

It’s like this when I get to know anyone. Jasper’s life, too, occurred to me in episodes, playing at light speed. Yours did too.

She used to be an overseer at a factory. I assumed her to be with some branch of the military, but she oversaw the production of spaceships, watching the screens in a little room as parts were assembled multiple times: windows, doors, wings, bolts, computers. It had come to the point where she could look at a ship and know how they were assembled. A peculiarly shaped bolt would tell her what model number, as a finish could tell her how fast the ship could go.

Day in and day out, she would watch the ships come into creation from skeletons, hundreds of  times a day. There used to be more, someone told her (she didn’t remember who). “On a good day, seven hundred new ships would leave this facility. Now we’re lucky if we hit two hundred.” It still seemed like an absurd amount, watching the technicians working. They pressed their buttons and manipulated their machines as fast as they could, not even stopping to wipe the sweat forming vapor within their visors. If they took too long a break to adequately clean them, she was to scare them into working faster, but everyone worked as fast as they possibly could. Perhaps there used to be more Peridots to harass. Agate imagined a surplus where one may have the luxury of taking her time to clean her visor, but the resource shortage had resulted in a lack of time as well. The technicians tried desperately to make their quota.  

Someone representing White Diamond arranged a meeting with Agate one day, about a project. She had never seen such a gem before, dressed in an elegant uniform, with short, well-kept hair. Her eyes reflected a rainbow of colors, but when focused on Agate for any amount of time, they held the consistency of a blank page. 

She spoke in a calm, even voice. “No decisions have been made yet, but given your experience as overseer of factory Gamma 3, Sector 4.9, we’ve decided you would make an excellent candidate for our program.”

Her words flowed as though she had spoken them hundreds of times. Agate wondered how many others she had told the same thing, reciting a speech written on a page stored in the back of her mind.

She didn’t leave time for questions, and continued as if anticipating them. “Homeworld has a long list of gems classified as non-violent offenders, or, if they were violent, these incidents were not too serious. Our Diamond has proposed putting them to work, as it would be less costly than producing new gems of the same type, who might go on to commit similar crimes.”

She didn’t mention anything about rehabilitation.

“Your duty will be to watch over them, making sure they behave and work efficiently. We’ll let you know what decision we come to, and if you’re selected.”

She left before Agate could ask any questions, which she has currently forgotten. She never did find out what kind of gem she was, nor did she see her again. In only a few days, they had converted an old storage facility into this place, setting up a factory, holding cells, and offices for its guards and warden, putting us to work.

All of this occurred in a flash, an upset of moral lightning, as I drew an orgasm from her with my mouth and fingers. Her legs shook, and she envisioned the promises she had made and broken, and the irony of her becoming a criminal in a place intended to uphold the law. I climaxed with her, dizzy with an imprint of the viewing room seating chart flashing behind my eyelids. I moved my thumb over her lips, soaked even after such a short amount of time, with an almost unconscious intention of changing it. 

“We shouldn’t have done this.”

“I know,” I replied.

Quietly, we cleaned up. I tried to wipe the scent of her from my lips, but I’m certain it stuck. She kissed me on the cheek before we went out together. Intentionally, I was last on her list of gems to review, and she sat us in the viewing room for that day’s video.  

I was able to move closer to Jasper.

I wasn’t able to sit next to her, mind you, but I made it to the back row. Every gem in our class looked at me as though I were fucking our mentor, (am I allowed to joke about it?) but I don’t care what any of them think. Even with Pearl tossing me a glare, knowing that I  _ can _ come closer to Jasper made me euphoric, and we spent the video exchanging glances between Topaz, who cried throughout.

She must have felt guilty. Topaz, I mean. That day’s video pertained to fusion of same-type gems, and how it’s important to work together, but not grow too close. Of course,  _ she _ had grown too close. Through Agate, I learned that Topaz had attempted to escape with her lover by stealing a ship, but had failed upon not processing the correct visa, written simply in her record as “arrested for attempting to unlawfully pilot ship 0X77.”  

There’s no way to know for certain, but it seems her lover is in another facility.

I considered taking her hand. Whenever I looked to Jasper, I saw Topaz, trying to keep from sobbing. It would have been nice to have one’s hand held, during such a moment, but I didn’t dare. We’ve never spoken, and I didn’t want to overstep my boundaries.

I told Jasper as much as we conversed in the yard, asking her if she always cries that way.

“She does. It makes you feel worse, right? I was trying to focus on the video, but all I could do was think about how depressed we all are. It’s hard enough without crying about it, you know?”

“You’re right.” I spotted Topaz on the other side of the yard. She wasn’t openly weeping, but staring at the lights overhead, as if there were a way out. She may have been thinking about her partner. That’s who I would have in mind.

“Can you blame her? It’s hard being reminded what you did wrong. You’re trying to be a new gem, but your mistakes follow you, no matter what. It’s terribly painful, even if remembering will help you become better.”

“That’s true,” she said.

“Do you ever cry, Jasper?”

“Yeah, I cry a lot. I can’t believe what a pansy I am.”

“You couldn’t be a pansy with muscles like that.”

She laughed and thanked me. I almost lost consciousness.

“Do you cry, Morganite?”

“All the time. If I wasn’t worried about looking decent in front of you, I would cry right now.”

“You don’t have to look tough for me.”

“Neither do you. I would never judge you for crying. In fact, I’m sure you would look just beautiful, becoming so emotional.”

“No way. I’m so ugly when I cry.” She swept back her hair again, bashfully.

“Well, I guess you’ll have to show me one day. I will warn you, though, I’ll have no choice but to comfort you. As much as I want to see it, I wouldn’t want you to be in pain.”

Oh, Pearl. The way she said, ‘Thank you,’ was enough for the entire cycle. Even the simplest expressions from her make me susceptible. I would give anything to hold even her pinky. That’s all I would need.    

I’ll use Agate’s whole body to get her little finger. Even now I regret writing that, but I’m in a mood where I want what I want and I’m not feeling apologetic. Thank you for saying I’m not broken.

—Morganite


	35. Letter 35

Morganite,

Seeing as how there’s nothing wrong with pinky holding, you should. Agate’s taking advantage of her power, so you should take advantage of her. If it makes your stay more comfortable, do it. 

Blueberry came to me again last night. I was upstairs, dusting the shelves (surprisingly) when she opened the door just a crack and slipped in. Despite adeptly sneaking in without making any noise, or flooding the room with outside light, she arrived nervous. Bunching up her skirts between her rolling fingers, she stopped cold in the center of the floor, and I came down. 

Before I could greet her, she said, “Hey, I hope it’s okay I came back. I really wanted to see you again, and I was hoping—” Blueberry stopped to pick at her nails, hiding beneath her hair. She didn’t continue. 

“Do you want to fuck or read?”

“Both,” she said quietly. “Is that okay?”

“Of course. I was actually just—” but I didn’t finish that thought. She had connected her mouth to mine and took me by the skirts, pulling me in and taking them off.

She’s wild, Morganite. She laid me down in an instant, hands all over me, fingers between my legs, in my hair, in my mouth. She shook, perhaps overwhelmed, but that didn’t stop her. Before I could even discern what was happening, she had me on the floor, eating her out as she did the same for me.  

After we had finished, we lay rug burnt and half-conscious. I held her as she cuddled into me, stroking through her hair.

“Maybe we should have read first.”

She laughed. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“It’s funny how the desires get worse when you act on them, or maybe I have no self-control.”

“Don’t say that. You’re amazing.”

“You don’t have to lie.” I stroked through her hair again as the air grew cooler around us. I hadn’t turned the lights on in the library, and the night progressed outside the window, until I could barely see her. I felt her gem press into my chest, and her warmth as it held me.   

“I mean it.” She sighed, letting it out slowly against my skin. “I’m jealous of you. You served a  _ Diamond _ . You know how to read, and you spend your days surrounded by books. I don’t even know why you like me.” She shifted, probably to look at me, but I couldn’t see her. I doubt she could see me either, but it seemed appropriate to gaze into her face.

“Blueberry, shut up. I hate it when you say things like that. You’re acting like you can’t learn to read.”

She relaxed, “But I can’t.”

“ _ Why not? _ ” My voice echoed around the empty spaces between shelves, more than I wanted it to. “I didn’t emerge knowing how to read. My Diamond taught me.”

“She did?” Blueberry propped herself over me.

I kissed where I suspected her mouth was, catching half of it. “Yes, and if I learned, you can too. I’ll teach you.”

She remained silent, falling back into me. I felt her fingertips as they smoothed over my collarbone, caressing it.  

“I’m not cut out for it,” she said. “I’d have no use for reading.”

“That’s not true. Once you know how to read, you can take books from the library to the maintenance room and read to your heart’s content. As to whether or not you’re cut out for it, you’ll just have to give it a try. I bet it won’t be as hard as you think.”

Blueberry didn’t speak for a long time. As she thought, smoothing over patches of my skin, I played with her hair, telling her, “Consider it, okay?”

She said she would, and after picking ourselves up, we turned on the lights and pulled out  _ Mark of the Red Diamond _ , sitting in the chair together. Side by side, she studied each page as I read it out aloud. Blueberry listened, but I could tell she didn’t pay as close attention as usual. Her eyes dug into each letter, perhaps trying to figure out what sound they made.

She might have tried to memorize them. It was hard to say, but I have a feeling she’s going to say yes. I hope she does. She would probably be proud of herself, to sit down with a book and get through it without help.

—Pearl     


	36. Letter 36

Dear Pearl,

I don’t know if it’s a good idea that you teach Blueberry to read. You’re going to ruin her for serving Blue Diamond. If you show her a world outside of her situation, she’ll long for it, which will only lead her to absconding to the library to steal books neither one of you are supposed to read. You’ll put her at risk.

I say this, even though I recognize that I love reading about your adventures with her. There’s a part of me that desperately wants to see what comes of this. I  _ want _ her to enjoy literature, but this part of me is broken. I am constantly fighting these urges which are so strong within me, saying Homeworld is wrong and what they’re doing to me is wrong; what they’re doing to all of us is wrong. I’m the one who’s wrong. There is no benefit to be gained from fighting against the Diamonds, yet I break the rules.

I don’t want to stop writing. If not for you, I might let them shatter me. I might go about getting caught, trying something publicly twisted so I wouldn’t need to go on living as a sinner, but I can’t do it. Yet I feel so filthy.   

I long for a solution.

Yellow should have shattered me. I haven’t changed at all.


	37. Letter 37

Pearl, I’m sorry.

I wasn’t in a good place when I sent that letter. Please forgive me.

Recently, I made Agate sit me next to Jasper. She barely fought against me as I used an orgasm, sneaking into her memory and changing the seating chart’s positions. I erased a name with same motion and friction as my tongue. She barely noticed.

Despite everything, I still want to hear about Blueberry. I wasn’t lying when I said it’s one of the few things that keep me sane, but please don’t be concerned. 

I think the stress had triggered another vision, but I count myself lucky that I was able to see Yellow Diamond again. She told me that I had cried. “You were weeping, Morganite,” she said in her strict voice. “Are you alright?” 

“It was the vision, My Diamond.”

Graciously, she held me. I thought she would put me down and send me away but she took her thumb and wiped the blood from my face.

“You’ve been working efficiently lately. Does the stress make your visions worse?”

“Perhaps, My Diamond, but I’m not complaining.”

She really laughed. It was a beautiful, confident laugh, and I could feel her amusement as Yellow warmed me. I wept again.

“Oh, stop. Why are you crying  _ now? _ ”

“I’m sorry, My Diamond. I’m happy that you’re happy.”

“Try not to cry so much next time.” She set me down, and I went back, burying myself in my room.

I couldn’t tell her that I thought about touching Jasper throughout the viewing. We were right next to each other, but I didn’t dare reach over to take her hand, despite watching it exclusively.

Jasper had left it close to me. She would shift to touch her hair and leave it at her side, resting so near. The video droned on in such a monotonous way about how to carry oneself, how one shouldn’t flip her hair or how one shouldn’t walk. “Don’t emphasize your hips. Carry on in a straightforward and efficient manner. If you’re accompanied by a Pearl—” but I drifted back to her, wishing  _ she _ would accompany me. I wanted to keep her at my side, holding her hand as we go somewhere,  _ anywhere _ else.

I remember how I could only take two or three of Jasper’s fingers, before. Their hands are a little different. This Jasper’s left hand is orange instead of red, but I know it would feel the same, if only on the surface.

I wouldn’t dare tell Yellow Diamond that the gem Jasper is on the inside would be entirely her own. I wouldn’t dare tell her that I wept out of longing to take that for myself and wear it like a blanket around me. I couldn’t. 

I suppose the moral thing to do would be to tell you not to write back. I could stop pursuing Jasper and refuse Agate, but at this low a state, I’m not capable of the moral thing. Maybe I’ll try, but I’d like to hear about Blueberry. She’s certainly the most innocent of the three. 

—Morganite

 


	38. Letter 38

Morganite,

You’re probably right that I shouldn’t teach Blueberry to read, but it’s going well. When she arrived here (yesterday, actually) she presented me with a necklace she made, from gold foil and springs. 

“Thank you for teaching me,” she said, as she put it into my hand. It was balled up, as though she were embarrassed, but I thought she had done well, given what she has to work with. 

I taught her from the book  _ Literacy of a Diamond’s Pearl _ , which is titled more for the instructor than the learner. (Literacy is a hard word to read for a beginner, don’t you think?)

When she asked me the title, I told her the truth.

“But—”

“Blueberry, you’re a Diamond’s Pearl too. Maybe you’re not her  _ personal _ Pearl, but the title doesn’t say that.”

“Oh—” She blushed. “Does it really say a Diamond’s Pearl? You’re not lying, are you?”

“I swear it says a Diamond’s Pearl.”

Finally, she let me open to the first page, telling her I learned to read from this book. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of this series, but there have been several editions and workbooks. My Diamond used the fifth when she taught me, and I remember using the workbook as well, which I couldn’t find. 

The workbook was pleasant. On every page, it had drawings of the example words, and cartoon Pearls from White Diamond’s court who, of course, never existed. They were fun characters, the story being that Moonbeam (the educated one) was teaching messy-haired, disorganized Stardust how to read.

Fortunately, they made appearances in the main book, in updated art. Both Moonbeam and Stardust look cuter for the twelfth edition, in softer pastels, personalities the same. Moonbeam is still the serious bookish-type, while Stardust struggles to write neatly and is always making terrible jokes. I feel the sorriest for her. She’s been trying to read for thousands of years, and no matter how many editions they publish, she never learns. 

Blueberry seemed to like Stardust more, and I would have to agree. Moonbeam has her head too far up her ass, even though she provides some useful information. Sometimes. On page two, she’s standing next to a photo of Homeworld’s oldest poem, “Emergence.” She explains, “Homeworld’s writing system was originally written in stone. You can see here that the characters used to be simpler—so much so, most gems can’t read this poem anymore! Gem writing grew more complicated once gems no longer had to write on stone. Can you find any characters that look like the ones we use today?”

Stardust said, “No, because I don’t know how to read!”

To which Moonbeam replied, “Then you had better look on page one!”

Blueberry took this activity seriously, flipping back and forth numerous times before moving on.

I taught her the first ten characters, their sounds, and how to write them, without focusing too heavily on the rules. I’m worried about overwhelming her. She seemed nervous, and I think it’s the underlying fact that she shouldn’t know how to read. Unlike our other crimes, this one goes directly against her purpose. That must scare her. 

You wrote that her becoming literate will cause her to understand the nature of her cage, and I mostly agree. But I hope it will help her pass the time more easily. She might come to understand it more, but maybe a pillow will manifest on the hard floor. Perhaps she’ll see colors more vibrantly. I can’t imagine how bored she must be, watching over the maintenance room.     

After our lesson, I read to her from  _ Mark of the Red Diamond _ , but we only made it through two chapters before she had to go. We had spent a long time with  _ Literacy of a Diamond’s Pearl _ , and she couldn’t relax. Sitting in the chair together, she adjusted herself as if she couldn’t find a comfortable position. 

I didn’t fight her on that point, kissing her crown and letting her go.

I hope she doesn’t feel so nervous the next time, or decides she wants to stop learning. I wouldn’t force her, but I know she can do it.

—Pearl


	39. Letter 39

Oh, Pearl,

I hope you’re right, and that your teaching Blueberry to read benefits her. It might indeed be nice to have something to do in the maintenance room, other than monitoring those boring machines. She seems too sweet to have such a dreadful job.

Speaking of sweet gems, I did something reprehensible as we sat through today’s presentation.

We learned about fusion, the actresses in this case being a Pearl and her master, a Sapphire. Contrary to what one might expect, the storyline was never undercut by a narrator whenever the characters did something inappropriate. We were tasked with deciding what those infractions were ourselves, to discuss later.

The film, in this case, was unexpectedly long; much longer than the short scenes we’re normally to watch. It shows the characters’ relationship from the moment they meet, to the end when both are apprehended for falling in love. I almost wonder if this wasn’t something made for upstanding nobles to watch, as they wouldn’t need to fret moral corruption for viewing such a work.  

If I could, I would ask Goshenite about it.

I say that because it was quite cinematic in its approach. The scene where Pearl and Sapphire fuse was shot beautifully, beginning at the start of dusk, likely meant to symbolize their moral failing as the background sky transitions into darkness. Both actresses, too, did such a good job of portraying their longing. Despite not speaking of  _ it  _ directly, one could tell what was  _ really _ being said. Both of them were thinking it. Just as Pearl gave Sapphire her teacup, lingering as their hands overlapped, probably wanting to kiss, they fused. The director, of course, didn’t show this moment. The camera panned away, but within the dark chamber was a short flash of light. Once over, the set had transitioned into total darkness, and following suit, so did our viewing room.  

To the left of me, I heard muffled crying, obscured occasionally by the wiping of a hand. I knew it was Jasper, and reached over in that small window of darkness and took a few of her fingers.

She was considering her own situation, unsurprisingly, and how she, her Carnelian, and the characters threw everything away for moments of pleasure. In much the same way, I thought of  _ my _ Jasper, and you, and found myself crying her tears and mine.

The scene transitioned, but I took more interest in Jasper, who couldn’t pay attention out of grief. In seconds, I learned the details of her apprehension, as she had become preoccupied with that night, and the moment of her demise.

Jasper was assigned to Ardor Seven, a gem-controlled planet with a unique ecosystem; many of whose plants can produce a viscous oil used for the fuel. For this reason, the Diamonds had elected to leave it mostly unperturbed, save for the one or two kindergartens on its surface. (Jasper doesn’t remember how many there were exactly.)

Some of these lifeforms didn’t appreciate the gems stepping in and attempted to destroy one of the kindergartens. They were tall, slender, gelatinous creatures with transparent skin covered in little hairs for sensing. Jasper saw two of them communicate before having to chase them away. They practically made music as they undulated, the core of their bodies changing colors as they hummed.

As a result of finding the creatures draped over the injectors each morning, Commander Hessonite assigned her soldiers to night shifts, where they monitored the equipment. 

Jasper and Carnelian, close to each other, would come even closer as the nights dragged on, talking over the pounding in the distance—a sound that the gems assumed to be weapon production.  

Sometimes, one or more creatures would wander over, jiggling in a jagged line. They might collapse, making a brief music that resembled staccato laughter, falling over hoops hovering around their bodies. Their glow softened as they seemed to sleep, unresponsive when either Jasper or Carnelian came to chase them away.

To remove them from the kindergarten, Jasper would cradle them. Due to their little hairs, they were soft, and their formless bodies took shape in her arms as they glowed dully against her. Secretly, Jasper liked it when they would fall unconscious within the kindergarten. She liked to hold them and place them carefully at the outskirts of the jungle, where the pounding grew louder.  

Eventually, Commander Hessonite planned a raid to find the source of the rumbling. “It seems to grow louder every night,” she said before her troops, hands gallantly upon her hips. “If they’re planning an attack, it’s sure to be soon. We have to stop it at the source.”  

That evening, when the pulsing began and the darkness fell, Hessonite and her soldiers snuck into the jungle, following the beat through the tangle of plants and the thick trunks of trees. The further they progressed, the louder the pulsing became, so much so that another compounded on top of it—the addition of an instrument, a run of notes.

Hessonite stopped them a moment. “Is that...music?”

They continued, as did the pounding. It evolved into patterns, changing formation as the creatures changed colors, faster, slower. Jasper fought the urge to shake her hips.

Finally, they emerged on the other side of the jungle, facing an enormous warehouse marked with the diamond insignia. Its walls shook on beat as the music pulsed, violent colors projected from its windows.

Hessonite called to them, “On my mark!”

The soldiers lined up behind her, and with a wave of her hand, they rushed into the warehouse—a rusty monolith, hollow on the inside and filled with expensive musical equipment and loud lights.

“It’s a nightclub!” Jasper shouted at the array of dancing bodies. They hadn’t even noticed the soldiers’ intrusion.  

Hessonite pinched the bridge of her nose and turned to leave, soldiers following. She later reported her findings to the head Peridot, an Era One gem who oversaw the kindergarten. Having solved the mystery, they would leave within days.

Still, to keep the gem injectors safe from the forlorn bodies of debaucherous partygoers, Jasper and Carnelian continued their night shift.  

“You know,” Jasper told her, “Those creatures are kind of like us.”

Carnelian laughed. “How could you think those weird plants are anything like us?” Then she shook and tried to replicate the sounds they made; though what she produced hardly matched.

Jasper laughed, “Well, they dance, and they seem to have a kind of light.” 

Carnelian smiled, crookedly.

“Come on. Don’t tell me you can’t see it.”

“I guess.”

“I only brought it up because going to one of their parties would be fun. Who knows when we’re going to come back here?” Jasper smoothed her hair back. It had the same effect on Carnelian that it does on me. “You want to try and go?”

“We’re set to work when the party starts.”

“You know nothing ever happens. How many times have we stood out there and no one showed up? Besides, we don’t have to go the whole night. Let’s just check it out.”

Carnelian shrugged. “Fine, but if it’s lame, I’m leaving.”

It wasn’t lame. Upon entering, Jasper and Carnelian were welcomed by the booming music and packed bodies, glowing a spectrum of ever-changing colors. The lights, which resembled small but vibrant suns, changed on beat as the walls shook. The music, now heard up close, had a complex array of electronic beats, repeating as the instruments changed. It produced various interpretations of the same song, over the slowing and quickening beat.

Carnelian yelled into Jasper’s ear, over the deafening music, “Good idea!” as they moved to the center of the floor.

Jasper spotted other gems. Some stood towards the walls and some amongst the dancers, moving their bodies. None looked familiar, perhaps runaway soldiers from other platoons or refugees. One that stood out to her was a Peridot wearing a rainbow-tinted visor, likely a worker from the kindergarten, nodding her head to the beat.

She disappeared at some point, in the darkness between flashing lights. Jasper hadn’t paid too close attention anyway, distracted by Carnelian’s dancing, flipping her reddish-brown hair as she shook her hips.

She looked absurd at moments, the light catching her in a ridiculous pose, or with her hair obscuring her face, but she was laughing, so Jasper did too. Ironically, when they paused to hold each other, giggling mutely because the music was so loud, they fused. 

The music stopped. Everyone in the club seemed to stare, as if a single gasp had escaped all of them at once. But then the creatures glowed and cheered in an array of celebratory colors. Even the silly rings they had hovering around their centers flashed neon lights.

The panic subsided, Jasper felt absolute warmth and pleasure, having eased herself into Carnelian. Inside the clubwear of their fusion, Carnelian felt Jasper feeling the same, and they continued dancing. 

That comfort didn’t last long. Commander Hessonite had come for them. Neither could hear her yelling over the music until they saw her, drawing her sword to rend them in half. The creatures nearest by produced a scream, but the music kept going as Hessonite dragged them out past several bodies.

Jasper stopped there. In her mind space, we both stood outside the club, the music beating to the lyrics of her conscious.

_ You’ve ruined everything, _

_ For just one night. _

_ Baby, it’s all your fault, _

_ And you’re never going back. _

It droned on and on with the repetitive beats, a singular song which never ended.

“Jasper?” She had imagined me in a soldier’s uniform, never having seen me outside of facility clothes, a club ring around my waist. I touched her arm.

“I’ve ruined everything for just one night. How could Carnelian ever forgive me? If I could just apologize—I just want to apologize—”

“What would you say?” 

In the viewing room, I cried her tears. The music booming from the club died down, her voice speaking the lyrics nearly disappearing. I dismantled it to a whisper and the jungle grew louder around us.

“I would tell her how dumb of me it was, to think of running off to a  _ nightclub _ . We were supposed to be on duty, but I just wanted to dance with her. The whole time we were there…”

“She wanted to dance with you too. That’s why she agreed to go.”

“She wouldn’t have gone if I hadn’t suggested it—she was so good—”

Jasper buried her face in her hands, and within the viewing room, I could no longer see the screen; my eyes flooded so aggressively with her tears.

“It’s normal to want to dance with her. You loved her.”

Within her mindscape, Jasper embraced me. In actuality, she held my hand so tightly it must have turned white, but I delved to the depths of her heart. I found her memories of Carnelian, how soft and careful they were. How her whole body would heat whenever she so much as smiled, and her secret thoughts of wanting to run away with her. 

Perhaps Jasper didn’t realize it herself, but her going to the club was the first step in seeing if Carnelian would escape. She never thought this consciously, but it existed as a fraction of a thought. I doubt she would have acted on it.

After the film ended, we attempted to hold a discussion, but everyone had dried up from weeping. Topaz, for instance, could hardly get through three words without crying.

“Consider your actions.” Agate told us. “Consider what Pearl and Sapphire could have done differently. Consider what  _ you _ could have done differently. Becoming a regular, functional gem is within your grasp, but you must put in the work.” 

She released us.

The film had ended with both characters dying, and each of us stumbled into the artificial lights of the yard, eyes raw from the darkness of the viewing room.

When I found Jasper, she smiled at me, her eyes, too, underlined with exhaustion. “I don’t know what you did, but I feel a lot better.”

“I took your sorrow,” I told her. “I hated that you felt that way.”

“Is that why you were crying?”

I laughed, in a gasp close to a sob. “Yes, but I’ll be fine.”

“Thank you, Morganite. That was kind of you.”

For the rest of our free period, I sat next to her. Agate was watching us, as was everyone else. I saw them whisper. I don’t care. They can say what they like. Agate may use me. The others may call me a slut. Even with some of Jasper’s sadness lingering inside me, I feel euphoric. Her love may not have been directed at me, but I experienced what she’s capable of, so devoted, so loyal, so  _ pure _ .    

I feel saved for having felt it. I’ve never experienced such a thing from anyone. I could die.

—Morganite


	40. Letter 40

Hey Morganite,

I’m glad you were able to touch Jasper’s hand. You’ll have to forgive me. I don’t really know what to say. 

Something happened that left me a little shaken up. Blue Diamond’s Pearl caught Blueberry and me. We weren’t even nude, but cuddling in one of the library chairs. I was reading to her, and she started shouting at us. I can’t remember exactly what she said. She might have accused me of replacing her. She called Blueberry misshapen, making her run away before I could stop her. We were almost at the end of our book. Pearl told me to go fuck myself before leaving.

I’ve been sitting here for several hours, and I’m not sure what’s going to happen. If this is the last time you hear from me, I’m sorry. I’m not sure what she’s going to tell Blue.

—Pearl


	41. Letter 41

It turns out Pearl did tell Blue Diamond. They came to the library, Blue Diamond approaching with some kind of moral concern, Pearl grinning smugly.

I was standing on the second floor when she came in, but she began speaking before I could go to the first, where I could stand at her feet as she reprimanded me. Rather, we faced each other. “Pearl,” she said, “I was told you’ve been reading,” and stopped, giving me a chance to deny it. I was tempted to tell her exactly  _ who _ alerted her, as if it wasn’t blatantly obvious.

“It’s true.” I waited for her.

“Perhaps I never told you explicitly not to, but you’re not meant to read during your time here.” Blue spoke these words gently. I’m sure she thought herself reasonable, and that I should thank her.

_ Not  _ meant _ to read.  _

“I’m not going to stop,” I said. 

Blue Diamond was shocked, but I kept going. I had worked myself up, imagining this moment and what I would say. I was shaking but indignant when I said, “My Diamond taught and intended me to read, and I’m not going to stop.”

“ _ What? _ ” Blue Diamond said, leaning forward to cast a shadow over me.

“I wasn’t meant to serve you.” I shouldn’t have said that. “I was  _ meant _ to die with My Diamond, and I would prefer death than to stop reading and spend another day here.” In my mind, I had imagined hollering these words triumphantly, but I spoke them calmly, as if Blue and I were the same size. As if she posed no threat to me. As if I were a Diamond too.      

Blue didn’t say anything. She instead started to cry, putting her face in her hands. The deluge began reasonably at first, until turning into a sob through which Blue spoke. I could hardly make out her words except something about my loyalty and My Diamond. She hid further into her cloak, mumbling, “one of the few things she had left,” or whatever.

“Are you going to do it?” I asked her. She looked ridiculous, wrapping herself in that blanket. “ _ Are you going to shatter me? _ ”     

I don’t know how I found the audacity. As I’m writing this, I’m shaking, but I meant what I said. 

She never answered. After displaying her sorrow, Blue Diamond went away, but even her Pearl lingered, smirk widening to a gasp. She remained until she realized she should follow. 

I’m worried that Blue Diamond may come back, now that the confrontation is over. I feel as though I‘ve escaped a trap, even though I might have cemented myself further into one. What I did was reckless, but I felt good, getting that out. It was satisfying to make her cry. 

Something tells me she’s not going to shatter me. She might come back and punish me, with talk of it being for my own good; but I’m a relic of the past. She’ll never get rid of me.

I’m not sure how to feel about that.


	42. Letter 42

Hey Morganite, are you there? You usually answer back by now. I hope you’re okay.

I saw Blueberry recently, but she’s upset with me. I snuck into the maintenance room to see her,  _ Mark of the Red Diamond _ in hand, but she said I needed to leave. 

“I heard about what happened. They said you told Blue Diamond to shatter you—” I tried to tell her that wasn’t quite it, but there wasn’t room for nuance. “If reading is going to make me want to die, I don’t need it! I want to live!” She started to cry. “I can’t believe you would throw your life away like that!”

I tried to tell her it wasn’t like that, but she wouldn’t hear it. “As if you didn’t want me to be just like you, anyway! Get out! You’re going to get me in trouble!”

She pushed me away, crying as the door shut. Even after it closed, I could hear her weeping.

I lingered outside longer than I’d like to admit, wondering if I should try and knock, but I went back to the library.

I hope she doesn’t believe I wanted her to be like me. I’m not sure why she said that. I would never think so lowly of her.

I hope she’ll talk to me later. I’ll keep you updated.

—Pearl 


	43. Letter 43

Morganite, I received my last letter to you back. Maybe they just couldn’t get it to you, but I’ll try resending it. I hope you’re okay.

—Pearl


	44. Letter 44

Morganite, did you receive my last letters? It’s been a while and they have yet to come back. Maybe you’re being silent because you disapprove of what I’ve done, but I feel like you would say something.

Please let me know that you’re alright, at least.

I saw Pearl today. She came into the library to watch the Diamonds fuck. I was laying in one of the chairs when she entered, head propped against an armrest.

She stopped at the door to stare at me. I’m sure I looked pathetic. I’ve been living like a balled-up piece of paper, staying where I land until rolled somewhere else. My clothes, body, and hair feel ugly. I haven’t bothered checking, but I’m sure my eyes are like craters.

“You’re really something,” she said.

“If you wanted to get me in trouble, you should have told her about everything else, but I guess that would make you a hypocrite.” I didn’t like the ugly words coming out of me, but said them anyway.

“Fuck you. I didn’t want you to  _ die _ . It’s like you don’t care about anything.” She ascended to the second floor.

I called to her, “ _ Maybe I don’t _ .” 

“Clearly.”

I anticipated she would say something along the lines of, ‘if you follow me, I’m going to push you down the stairs,’ but she didn’t. She didn’t talk to me for the rest of her visit, masturbating quietly as I remained affixed to the chair. The skin of my back stuck to it, and without a stray wind to kick me up, I stayed, crinkled.

I feel like shit, Morganite.

—Pearl  


	45. Letter 45

Morganite, are you okay? Please let me know.

—Pearl


	46. Letter 46

Jasper is gone.

I don’t know when exactly she went away, but she wasn’t there on a viewing day, cycles ago. I sat in the back of the room, next to Topaz, unable to see past the Quartz in front of me. During the viewing, they all looked at me, as if they knew something. 

Alone in the yard, I approached them. None of them knew.  _ We’re not sure. No one has seen her _ . The Pearl here even told me that one day she just stopped coming to the viewings; she had stopped attending the lessons, but she didn’t know why, or where she went.

I wept at work, and during viewings. I couldn’t complete my assignments. The unaddressed papers piled, but I hadn’t the resolve to compose a single answer. I would sit, hardly conscious in my tiny fucking cell, trying not to sleep to those awful videos. They played right past me. I couldn’t muster the energy to even select a letter for the multiple choice portion. 

I brought my drool-soaked papers to the weekly review, intending to ask Agate where Jasper had gone. She was my last hope. If anyone knew, it was  _ her _ .

Paging through my work, she looked at all of my non-answers, my blank spaces, my dark circles, my card atop the pile.

“You haven’t done any of your work, Morganite.” She opened the ink pad and prepared the stamp, pressing it to the spot for that cycle. “Our secret,” she said. “Just make sure to catch up next time.”

“Where is Jasper?”

She paused, widening her eyes but attempting to hide it. As if she could hide anything from me.

“She was sent to another facility. It was a decision from the higher-ups.”

“Alright,” I said, brushing a hand through my hair. “Even though I couldn’t finish my work, will you fuck me?” I poised my lips the way she found most pleasing, slightly agape. “I still want to eat your pussy. I’ve been thinking of it all week.”

She came and placed her hand upon my shoulder. “Don’t worry about Jasper.” Those words were embellished by a pang of irritation, a sentence written in red.

I connected her mouth with mine and followed the thread of her jealousy to her pit of lies. She gave me her tongue and I almost bit it, paging through her transgressions.

Jasper had been transferred to another facility, but it wasn’t a request from a faraway higher up. No faceless entity had slipped the notice under her door for Agate to find. She had filled it out and filed it herself about ten days ago.

As she reached though my uniform to cup my breast, I pushed her away.

“You bitch—” My eyes watered.

“Morganite—”

“ _ You selfish, lying bitch— _ ” I approached her and she backed away. Perhaps she knew I intended to ruin her.    

“If you don’t calm down, I’ll be forced to call security.” She reached her desk. I longed for Goshenite’s powers. She could crinkle someone with a look. I was prepared to destroy her body with pain, trigger her nerves to explode, but keep her form from dissipating. I could make it last for hours. I could make it last forever.  

“They won’t arrive fast enough.”

She gulped. “Jasper wasn’t good for you, Morganite, nor were you good for her. You were tampering with each other’s rehabilitation—”

“Rehabilitation?! This whole program is a fucking joke! No one comes here to get better! You’re just exploiting our labor—”

“If you don’t lower your voice—”

“What are you going to do?!” I screamed, approaching.

“ _ Morganite— _ ”

I touched her. She tried to pry my hand from her wrist, but I had already ripped her spine in two and dropped her to her knees. She hollered. She pressed the button. The door opened and two other Agates entered, electrocuting me with a destabilizer.

I woke up in a small white room, cameras in all four corners, if not more. Guards walked outside my door; there was something about keeping me from hurting myself. I drowned out the sounds of their footprints with my cries. I tried to escape, howling, getting nowhere. I remember asking them to shatter me, screaming at the padded walls. Over and over and over again, I yelled, until it sounded like another language, but at a certain point, they had gone.

I don’t know how long I was there. I had a vision. No one helped me. I was engulfed in layers of snow. I was wrapped in white noise. It came in waves that buried me, dug me up, buried me again. Beneath a hot sun. Beneath the lights. There were so many, and I was on fire, breaking into a cold sweat. Nothing.

Yellow Diamond said I looked terrible. They brought me to her, I guess, and I lay between her hands. She meant it too. She felt real, untouched sympathy as she observed me. Her pity cleansed me as it travelled through her bloodstream, as if it were a river that absolved me. She didn’t seem to know about my violence against Agate. It never crossed her mind. Perhaps Agate had elected not to tell her.  

“Where did Jasper go, My Diamond?”

She said she went to Earth, but I didn’t ask her which Jasper. I forget. I always forget.

“Morganite, what happened to you?”

“Whatever they did to me, My Diamond.”

“I’ll talk to them about it.” But she put me down and they dragged me to work. I’ve been going every day. The papers piled like frost on a mountain top that I’m clawing through but I wanted to write.

That’s where I’ve been.

  
  
  



	47. Letter 47

Hi Morganite,

I’m glad you’re still alive, at least. It sounds like you’ve suffered.

I’m not sure which letters of mine you received, but Blueberry and Pearl are no longer speaking to me. Blueberry is angry at me for risking my life and Pearl is angry that I cheated on her, leaving me by myself most days. Pearl comes into the library, but we don’t talk. She does her business and leaves.

Two days ago, I went to another party hoping to find Blueberry, but she wasn’t there. I had even rehearsed an apology, but I didn’t recite it to anyone. Any word I practiced, I wasn’t able to share. After fetching a cup of tea by myself, I stood along the edge of the ottoman.

I kept hoping she would burst from the shadows. Maybe she would pull me outside, so we could talk, but she never did. I ended up standing there, sipping my tea, while the others tossed me glances.

They knew. They wouldn’t look at me that way, otherwise. They moved closer to one another, seeming to share a secret. It felt like a slap.

I’m sorry that Jasper has gone missing. If anything, I understand the feeling.

—Pearl 


	48. Letter 48

Oh, Pearl. Maybe you can talk to Blueberry? I think you should try to visit her. Friendship is so precious.

I know what you mean when you say that everyone is watching you. Today, when I was walking home from work, I was pulled into a dark room filled with cleaning solutions and mops, smelling of flowers and sanitizer. They looked like heads of hair, like Blue Diamond’s Pearls, eyes peering out. 

I screamed, but Agate placed her hand over my mouth. It felt like I was trying to leave through my eyes. I shouted into her palm for such a long time, until I couldn’t see anything. The room had grown so dark.

“Morganite, I’m sorry.”

My vocal chords had tangled, but my mouth mumbled. Secretly, I must have known things my eyes could no longer see. My head felt full of pins, red and swollen at the base. They poked against the inside of my skull, but Agate kept me still. Even with her holding my hair and mouth and my whole body, I could feel them, shifting.

“I didn’t think they’d keep you in solitary for so long.”

I couldn’t use my mouth to talk. I cried. I sweltered under my clothes. The needles melted. A heat would roll on and I felt a layer of sweat inside my uniform.

She helped me take it off.  _ Thank the stars no one is watching _ , her hands wrote as she helped me out of my shirt. I was still crying. I grew hotter. I was bleeding and she took it away, holding me under the lights. They were hot too, but I curled into her lap. We had molded together, like wax. She stroked my hair. I smelled sweat and flowers. I can’t figure out which were mine and which were hers. She was embracing me and crying.   

She helped me dress and I left her office, I’m glad we made up. You should try the same with Blueberry. She’ll appreciate your honesty. 

—Morganite


	49. Letter 49

I saw another Morganite today. I know what you’re going to say. ‘That’s crazy. There can’t be another one. There’s  _ never _ been another one,’ but she was  _ there _ and I  _ saw _ her, standing with Goshenite like they’re best friends now, even though  _ I _ love her and she’s  _ my _ friend. 

Maybe you’re going to say that she’s a different gem, that there’s no way I saw her clearly enough, but I  _ did _ . She was a little peach-orange  _ thing _ with  _ my _ eyebrows and  _ my _ hair, but in white. 

She was small—she grew smaller as she coiled into Goshenite. She held onto her dress. They stared. I bet she thinks she’s so cute, with her gem in her stomach like she’s so fucking special.

I want to eat her, photon by photon. I want to steal her body. I want to crawl inside her. Does she know? Does she have to touch? Did she hear it like I had screamed? I wanted to. I wanted to scream at her.

Goshenite beamed something into me. She knows what’s going on. Typical. Her knowledge, her message, it hit me in the back of my mind where I can’t unravel it. But I feel it along the nape of my neck, white hot, a lump. I scratch it sometimes, hoping to make it burst. She burned something into me. She altered me. Her third eye did.

Help me


	50. Letter 50

Morganite,

I’m sure they’re not trying to replace you. Maybe you did see another Morganite, but that doesn’t mean there can’t be two. Maybe, like you, she happened to emerge and was put to work. In any case, stay calm. Freaking out about this is not going to help. Just stay productive and pay attention during the viewings.

I’ll try to help you, but I don’t know what to do. Let me know if you have any ideas.

—Pearl


	51. Letter 51

I found the answers. Goshenite’s message unraveled in me like a chord unwinding, snapping my neck. She bled into my face, and I felt her light burn against my forehead, breaking my skin.

So suddenly, we were sitting in her tea room. I could see us at her table. Goshenite was crying, and I was too. She held me. I ended up with my head in her lap as she stroked through my hair. Her fingers sewed my neck back into place. She was so pure.

We hadn’t touched in such a long time. Our teacups steamed away for hours as we sat and Goshenite lulled me into a dream. 

I had become her third eye. Like a camera mounted onto her forehead, I saw that other Morganite. I saw her emerge as she remembered it, because Goshenite knew. She knew by seeing her for the first time. I knew by seeing her for the first time.

She was days old, having been glued to Goshenite for most of her tiny life. It turns out she couldn’t read what I thought about her, staring into her eyes during our encounter. She couldn’t even read that through Goshenite, because her powers didn’t extend that far.

She had spent the last few days in Goshenite’s office chair, back too straight, stature too small, while criminals filed in and sat across from her. Goshenite sat at her side.

They would put their hands on the table, usually enormous compared to hers, and she would try to read them as Goshenite asked questions. I saw all three of them the way the camera would, recording their sessions as Morganite twitched and gulped and quivered. She didn’t even know what these gems had done. Goshenite purposefully didn’t tell her.

“Is she telling the truth?” she would ask.

“Umm…Yes?” She didn’t even know.  _ She didn’t even know _ . I felt what she felt. A vague notion of truth, but even in touching them, she couldn’t read their thoughts. What came to her was a hazy yes, or no, but she couldn’t get that right.

To some of her responses, Goshenite pursed her lips and shook her head. “No,” she would say softly. “That’s not right.”

They would walk back together to Morganite’s apartment, which was further away and smaller than mine.  _ We _ used to hold hands, but Goshenite didn’t bother. No matter what, they would have to speak aloud, which they didn’t. Morganite returned in silence. From my position as third eye, I heard every insult she hurled against herself.  _ I’m a failure _ kicked her in the ribs.  _ I’m not good enough _ shattered her knee caps. She faltered as they were walking, as if hit in the back of the legs.

“You mustn’t compare yourself to others.” Goshenite told her. “The resources My Diamond used to create me were astoundingly costly and newer gems aren’t produced the same way any longer. It’s not your fault.” She had meant for these words to come out warmer. As if to make up for it, she placed her hand against Morganite’s shoulder. “Your Diamond is aware of your abilities and doesn’t expect of you what she would of me. You mustn’t worry. I’m sure your upcoming heat-treatment will aide your powers.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you, Goshenite.” Tears waited behind her eyes. She escaped into her apartment to cry them alone.

Her first free day, she went to visit Goshenite. Where else would she go? They were  _ attached _ . Morganite had come right after a call with Yellow Diamond, who asked how work was going. Morganite answered as Yellow recorded her words, the keys and the machine clacking and loading between lulls of conversation.

They had just sat down when Morganite began to cry. She tried so hard to stop, and hid her face. “I don’t think Yellow Diamond likes me.” She sounded just like me. “She seemed so disappointed when she called this morning.”

Goshenite held her. Morganite ended up laying in her lap as she combed through her hair, soft and white, saying, “She’s like that with everyone. You don’t know yet, but she cares. It’s not so obvious, but she does. I promise you.”

I woke up in a cold sweat between Yellow Diamond’s gloves. She was thinking of  _ that  _ Morganite, and of me as I saw myself through her eyes. 

I’m ruined. The scabs and blood have settled so relentlessly into the chasms of my eyes, my hair in knots. I could barely retain my consciousness. Saliva had dried and crusted over one side of my mouth. My prison uniform is ugly.

_ “My Diamond _ ,” I said. She smoothed a thumb over me as if to silence me, uncrusting my blood. At that moment, I felt nothing as her machines sang me to sleep.          

“You’re ill-suited for my court, Morganite.”

Thank the stars one of us said it.  

“I’m sorry, My Diamond,” I choked. “I’m trying my best.”

“I know.” She didn’t bring up the lack of productivity on my end, though it swelled in her throat like a burp. Yellow Diamond gulped it away and smoothed a thumb over me again. That time, I started to cry, weeping as she kept going, stroking me as the lie detector came to mind, my gem slotted inside it. She thought of the other Morganite asking me questions, if the heat treatment didn’t help her. We would be two useless pieces filling a job meant for one gem. I almost suggested fusing with her but remembered that I was being punished.

I didn’t feel afraid, even though she could have dissipated me right then. I imagined her squeezing my body to ozone. I had wished she would. I felt so hideous.

“Pink Diamond would have been able to give you what you needed. You were both so sensitive.” I felt it rise in her, a wave. A sob she never allowed to surface. She remained uncompromising; a stone.

She wondered if the other Morganite would end up like me.

We both hoped she wouldn’t.

“You’re doing your best, My Diamond,” I told her, blood dripping from my eyes.

She put me down. “You’re to report to me next cycle for a progress report. Pick up your pace, Morganite.” 

She said that, but she’s decided. I wanted to write one last time, Pearl, to thank you for talking to me. You didn’t have to. I had anticipated you would tell me to go away, but you didn’t. You didn’t, and I’m so glad. Writing with you has made this hellhole more bearable. I think I would have gone mad much earlier without you.

Please stay out of trouble. You have much to live for. 

I love you.

—Morganite


	52. Letter 52

I want to live. Not just as Yellow Diamond’s lie detector, but a conscious, free-willed being. I’ve devised a plan to escape, but it’s risky. I won’t go into it here because I don’t want anyone knowing, but you can come with me. Meet me in Yellow Diamond’s Hangar Theta X7, for a ship to depart on 146/5219, at 36:00. 

I’m sorry. I need your cut and facet number. I can’t remember it from when we lived together.

I don’t expect you to stay with me once we’re free, but we’ll have to leave together.

Please let me know as soon as you can.

—Morganite


	53. Letter 53

It’s cut 107 Facet 1XB.

Thank you, Morganite. 


	54. Diary Entry 1

I’m writing this before I’m to depart tomorrow, after talking to Blueberry. It was late when I went, but she opened the door. Perhaps she thought I was someone else, but she seemed to know, answering with a stubborn resignation that indicated she was willing to see me, but had steeled herself against my propaganda.

I wanted to hug her. It felt natural to reach out and rest my chin on her crown, but of course, I didn’t. Before I could say anything, she asked me, “What do you want?”

“I came here to apologize,” I said. “You’re right. I shouldn’t give up my life for no reason. I really threw myself at Blue Diamond, and that was wrong of me.” I paused for a moment as the lights flashed in the background. It seemed as though we were briefly in space, amongst an organized patch of stars. “I’ve decided to leave tomorrow, and risk my life for something better. I’m not  _ living _ here, so I came to say goodbye. Whether it goes well or not, this will likely be the last time.”

“Oh,” Blueberry’s expression had gone from stern, to concerned, to hurt as she seemed to choke back tears. “You were the only friend I’ve ever had.” She wiped her eyes beneath her mop of hair. “No one else bothered to see me as more than just a maintenance room Pearl. They would barely even talk to me—”

I held her. 

“I’m not angry with you anymore. I’m sorry I pushed you away—”

“I would have thrown me out too. You don’t have to be sorry.”

She squeezed me like she used to. I teared up. “Hey, we never finished  _ Mark of the Red Diamond _ . Can I read the rest to you?”

I felt her nod.

We sat together on the floor, hard as it was, with Blueberry in my lap. My arms around her, I read from the book, marked twenty pages from the back cover. 

They catch the culprit, a Ruby, who they apprehended at a paint factory. The last chapter has the detective's Pearl going to record her facet number, so she could schedule her trial. Pearl, walking down a long line of criminals kept behind electric walls, found her. With everyone at the opposite side staring at them, she produced her pad and paper. Ruby hardly glanced at her, having curled into the corner.

“Your facet number?” Pearl asked. Someone in another cell laughed.

Ruby told her. She mumbled the letters as Pearl dutifully wrote them down, and turned back to the wall.  

Pearl lingered, holding the notepad, wrinkling the paper’s edges. She pursed her lips and asked, “Why did you do it?”

Ruby glanced over her shoulder. “Huh?”

“Why did you do it?” Pearl asked again, louder.

“I was tired of everyone assuming I was stupid,” she said. “I did it to prove that I could.”

Pearl nodded and eventually left.

The other characters wondered if she was an off color, or if any gem might be that unexpectedly cunning, or gifted, or different in ways they can hide. Perhaps everyone has a potential danger. I can understand that.

Blueberry told me she still wanted to learn to read, and I told her she should find someone to teach her. “I know you can do it.” I kissed her forehead.

She agreed to open the main doors for me tomorrow, out of Blue Diamond’s chamber. They’ll only stay open for a few minutes, so I have to time it perfectly. Luckily, I’ll be leaving at night, around sunset. 

I hope it goes smoothly.

I hope Blueberry decides to continue reading. She deserves better than that terrible room of automated stars.  


	55. Pearl's Letter to Blue Pearl

(Left near in peephole, in the library.) 

I don’t know when you’ll get this letter, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t ball it up and throw it away. I want to apologize to you. I’m sorry for not being honest about my relationship with Blueberry or being more considerate when it came to you.

I know you don’t have a lot of other Pearls to talk to, that I was one of the few gems you considered a friend, and I took that from you. What I did was selfish. I’m sorry.

That said, I need your help with one last thing. Could you find someone to help Blueberry learn to read? I know it might be natural for you to hate her, but I’m solely responsible and ask that you don’t take it out on her.

She’s lonely, spending every day in the maintenance room, and I know that reading could help her pass the time.

I know you’ll understand. I’ll miss you.  

—Pearl 


	56. Diary Entry 2

When I met Morganite, she was exhausted. I barely remembered what she looked like, but I was met with an approximation with frayed hair and dark circles beneath her eyes. She looked past me before embracing me.

Our ship departed immediately. Without letting me go, she explained, “I manipulated one of the gems in charge of travel visas—” She let me go. Stars zoomed by, dots of smeared ink. “I’m so glad she issued them correctly. I was so worried.”

“Yeah, me too.”

She glanced at my arms and touched  _ The Lost Children _ . “You brought it, and this too.” Her fingerprint smoothed over the figurine’s hair, bouncing one of its coils.  

“I couldn’t leave them. It didn’t feel right.”

She touched the figurine again, glancing at the book. “I’ve decided to go to Earth,” she said. “It belonged to Our Diamond, and I want to apologize to Jasper, if I can find her. You don’t have to stay. You can leave me and go wherever you want.”

“Honestly,” I told her, “I want to go to Earth too. I can’t think of anywhere else.”

“Oh, Pearl.” She started crying. I held her.

We’ve been traveling a few days. I watch as Morganite walks around our ship and sometimes sits in a corner, remaining for hours. The cockpit is large and tinted orange, with a chair in the center, but she doesn’t sit inside it. Neither do I. We merely rotate in its orbit.

Morganite cries often, absentmindedly wiping her eyes. At moments, she directs herself toward the windows or the floor, as if it hurts to look at me, yet she embraces me.

We hold one another when it gets hard. I cry too. Either one of us might be doing nothing—sitting peacefully, when a pain comes. Sudden and overwhelming, it occurs like a flashback, or a vision. I find myself remembering Blueberry, Blue Diamond’s Pearl. Homeworld. The beauty of it—the worlds we’ve conquered, the architecture of domineering towers sprouting from the ground like titans, the statues, the multitudes of beautiful gems, of beautiful Pearls, the marketplace, the maintenance room, My Diamond’s chambers—but I couldn’t experience these things within the confines of Blue’s library. I could only read about them. The Earth, while nothing like Homeworld, is a beautiful planet with a plethora of experiences. I long for experiences. 

In the lonesomeness of the cockpit, we fused. The sadness came for both of us and I held her. Perhaps at that moment we felt so much the same that we became one. In a flash of light, I saw everything. She gave me back moments I had only read about. My seemingly endless life within the library was proven false within Coral’s head of curly pink hair. Fast forwarding through a past life, I witnessed the moment I met her, our sex, my fury, her hopelessness, the day she went away. Secondhand memories upgraded to firsthand ones as I hated her for a minute and forgave her the next. I saw the characters I had read about in her prison, and she saw mine.

_ Blueberry is cuter than I imagined _ , she whispered to my left lobe.

_ I can see why you liked Jasper so much. She seemed so kind _ .   

I saw her crimes too. I saw how she forced the more reticent gems who came to the office into sending her letters. I saw the times she went between Agate’s legs and erased her jealousy, which returned whenever she saw Morganite and Jasper together. I saw Agate catch her with one of my notes a second time, a third time, and Morganite wipe her memory of it. The fourth time she let it go. She stopped checking after that. 

I saw Morganite choose a ship based on Agate’s memories—a Space Compressor Three—whose tracker could be easily removed and destroyed. I helped her, in real time, yank it out and beat it to death.

I saw her last day of work, when she changed out of her prison uniform and walked with a zombified Agate to the hangar. Her eyes glazed over, she followed Morganite as an escort, leaving her at the passport check. Morganite embraced her, walked through the scanner, and didn’t look back as Agate turned around and went away.

I saw how she hasn’t changed at all; she just feels guilty about being who she is. But I saw how she wants to change. She doesn’t seem so dangerous now that we’re free.      

We relaxed by the window, the figurine in hand. No higher order seemed to be coming to tear us apart, so we remained fused as long as we liked. It felt like forever, that we basked in each other, glowing like a star, shooting through the abyss of space.

It hurts to have gotten out. One of my arms feels torn off, but it’s the first time in a while I’ve experienced real pain. Finally, after millennia of rotting like a dusty book on a shelf, I feel alive. I am alive.  

If the Diamonds want to come for me, they’ll have to take me back in pieces. But I don’t want to think of that right now. This patch of stars looks familiar. We’re getting close.

  
  



End file.
